


To New Hytes

by artificialmac



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Lesbian AU, Lesbian Sex, Multi, Multiship, Slow Burn, group fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2020-07-25 22:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificialmac/pseuds/artificialmac
Summary: Brooke is a famous ballet dancer touring the world with her hand-picked company of dancers of all different styles and backgrounds. Nina keeps her grounded, Vanessa keeps her enraged and Monet takes pictures of the whole thing. Blair is an oblivious lesbian and Kameron tries her best. Scarlet and Yvie are disgustingly adorable and Violet thinks they are all hopeless.





	1. The Hot-Head and The Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> I literally cannot thank Meggie and my darling sweet baby Grapefruit enough for the time and effort they spent in helping me write this. Ya girl has not written a chaptered fic or a group fic in nearly two years, so these two were/are my saviors. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you both!

Brooke hated auditions.

Her crew was hand-selected, yes. Hand selected by her own hand… and, to a greater extent than given credit, Nina’s. Nina, bless her. She did all the work Brooke didn’t like doing. She handled money and promotion and paperwork. And usually, auditions.

But Nina had asked her - no - encouraged her to be there for this one. And Nina’s encouragement was about as close to demanding as it got. So, Brooke sat in a plush seat in the main theatre they used for performances and rolled her eyes when Nina told her to look happier. They were supposed to be observing some up and coming star. Nina had sent Brooke her file, and from the cursory glance Brooke had done, she was impressed. But the girl, Vanjie, Brooke corrected in her head, had a reputation for being a hot-head, and Brooke already had Yvie to deal with.

Brooke looked at her watch for the fifth time. Vanjie was late. _First flag._

Nina looked over at her worriedly.

“I’m sure it’s just traffic.”

“At four thirty in the morning?”

Nina shrugged.

Ten more minutes passed and the other dancers from the company started filing in from the back of the theatre and filling in the seats behind the co-directors. It wasn’t common for her dancers to observe auditions, just another flag that this Vanjie chick was something to see.

Brooke barked over her shoulder at her dancers to start stretching and going over their routines in their heads. 

They had a performance tonight. The first one to kick off their North American leg of the tour. They were only three days off the European leg, so the performance was nothing incredibly special - already having been done twelve times in the past three weeks - but in Brooke’s eyes, every performance needed to be special. Needed to be perfect. She was single-handedly changing the world of dance and needed everyone to do exactly as they were supposed to. Exactly what she told them to do.

She was called a hard-ass. A work horse. A bitch. She took the names in stride - they weren’t inaccurate. She was hard on her dancers, even harder on herself. There was no room for mistakes. No time for a misplaced foot or hand or being even slightly off beat.

Brooke took a long drink from her coffee and tried to keep her head up.

“When did you sleep last?” Nina questioned, voice taking on that tone it always did when she was concerned for Brooke. Brooke was starting to hear it more and more these days.

“London.”

“Brooke! That was four days ago.”

“Was it?” She shrugged and drained her cup.

A sudden shrill voice from the side of the stage pulled both women’s attention away. 

“I don’t come into your house slappin dicks out yo mouth!”

“Well that's pretty much exactly what you’re doing! How’d you even get this audition?”

“Ask your bitch of a boss. She requested me specifically.”

Yvie suddenly appeared on stage looking ready to kill someone. She was followed by a short girl in glittery eye makeup and wild hair. What the girl lacked in size she made up for in volume. 

Yvie threw one last devastating look at Vanjie - presumably - before she hopped down from the stage shooting a glare at Brooke as well. Vanjie stayed where she was, looking after Yvie as if her eyes could kill. She seemed unconcerned with her audience and was only snapped out of her own head when Brooke cleared her throat into the mic in front of her.

“Excuse me, bitch of a boss speaking here.”

The dancers behind Brooke snickered, and Brooke bit back a smile.

The young girl’s face went white, but the fire in her eyes persisted.

“Name, age, and style.” Brooke’s tone was stern, face statuesque. It didn’t seem to phase Vanjie, as the young girl on stage placed a hand on her hip and rolled her eyes upwards. 

“Thought y’all already stalked my shit.”

Brooke huffed. _So a hot-head and a brat._ “We may have ‘stalked your shit’ as you so eloquently put it, but this is an audition. You show us what you got and we judge you.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes again and the pencil in Brooke’s hand nearly snapped in half. “I’ve been to an audition before, mami.”

“Really?” Brooke made her tone even harsher. “Well if you act this way at all of them, I can see why no other dance companies have taken you.”

The company of dancers behind Brooke started to murmur to each other now. No one talked back to Brooke. Ever. Well, no one that kept their job. 

Vanjie’s tone suddenly shifted. Almost like a lightbulb went off in her head. She looked long and hard at Brooke. Her gaze stayed trained on the older woman’s face and it almost felt like Vanjie was looking right through her. The switch was immediate and so sudden that Brooke felt taken aback. 

Vanjie looked more relaxed, and let her posture slack a bit. She looked every bit as comfortable as Brooke suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“What can I say? I play hard to get.” Vanjie winked. 

Brooke was seething.

“Well, so do I.” Brooke looked long and hard at Vanjie, their eyes never breaking contact. The eye contact was eerily personal. It was like they had a whole conversation in the span of those few seconds. Vanjie finally looked away and Brooke smirked. “Well then, show us what all the hype is about, Vanjie.”

“Good luck,” Nina chimed in. Brooke shot her a glare.

Vanjie flashed them both one last smirk before she made a confident hand movement to signal the start of her music. It was some pop garbage Brooke had never heard of before. She knew she shouldn’t be making these rash judgements, but she was already on edge from the stilted conversation and couldn’t help herself.

Vanjie threw her body around the stage in practiced movements that make said throwing look purposeful. She was fiery and energetic. She used the whole stage to her advantage. She turned and dropped and pulled moves that Brooke had never seen before.

She was good.

She knew she was good.

Brooke couldn’t stand her.

The girls behind Brooke were whispering loud enough for her to hear.

_She’s even better in person._

_Her foot isn’t turned out._

_She’s got a lot of heart._

_She belongs on a stage._

_She’ll never make it in._

_Brooke doesn’t like her._

_Nina does._

That comment caught Brooke off guard. She looked over at her co-director and sure enough, a knowing smile was plastered on her face. Brooke recognized it as the same smile Nina always got before they brought in someone new.

Brooke wanted to shake her. Wanted to explain that Vanjie was exactly the wrong type of person they want in the company. She was everything they don’t need right now.

The music ended and Vanjie was left breathing heavily in the middle of the stage. It didn’t matter that she stood five foot five, she took up all the space in the room. A few of the dancers clapped behind Brooke’s head, and she barely held back from snapping at them.

Brooke leant up to the mic slowly, confidently, gracefully. “We’ll let you know.”

Vanjie nodded and made to exit the stage when she stopped suddenly. “What about you?”

“What?”

“Will _you_ let me know? Or are you gonna have your co-director contact me again through your email?”

“You’ll hear from us when you hear from us. And you’ll hear from whoever you hear from.” Brooke said dismissively.

Vanjie nodded again but made sure to shoot Brooke one last dazzling smile before she flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder and exited the stage.

Brooke let out a long breath and stared at the empty space Vanjie had just been. She felt shaken.

She wasn’t really sure why yet. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that Vanjie reminded her so much of herself at that age. Or if it was the fact that Vanjie was incredibly talented - far more talented than Brooke had been in her prime. Or if it was the fact that in the two minutes they had spoken, Vanjie had already wormed her way into Brooke’s head and was occupying her thoughts. 

Brooke didn’t know why she had such a strong reaction to the young dancer yet. 

She also wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out.

At that point, all her dancers were present, so she sent them up on stage to get on with rehearsal and handed Alyssa, her main choreographer and personal savior, her notes from the last performance. 

Nina and Brooke took five.

Nina sat on Brooke’s desk and watched her chain smoke cigarette after cigarette as she paced back in forth in her office.

“I like her,” Nina finally admitted.

Brooke stopped pacing and looked at Nina hard. “Why? She was late, she was rude, she got into it with Yvie, and all of that happened before we even got her name!”

“I like her.” Nina shrugged.

“You keep fucking saying that like it means something.”

“I think we should bring her on.”

“She’s a hot head.”

“She’s talented.”

“She’s gonna be a pain in the ass.”

Nina smiled.

“What?”

“You said ‘going to be,’ as in you want her to join.”

Brooke placed her fingers on either side of her nose to combat the headache that was growing. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Nina leant back, knowing smile on her face. “This girl really got under your skin, huh? What is it about her?”

Brooke sighed and plopped down in her desk chair. “It’s nothing.” She waved her hand to dispel the smoke from her face. “If you want her. If you really want her.” Brooke looked pointedly at Nina. “We’ll hire her. But if she’s a trainwreck, it’s on you.”

Nina gave a knowing smile. “She really bothers you.”

Brooke sighed again.

* * *

Vanessa got the call a day after her audition. She was lounging in the jacuzzi bath in her hotel room. (Having being flown out first class for an audition did have its perks). She glanced at the ringing phone for a minute, debating if she wanted to answer. She did like playing hard to get. The last three companies she had auditioned for had to work to get her attention. She never answered the first time they called.

So she surprised even herself when she didn’t think twice about hitting accept.

“Vanessa Mateo?” It was a question, but it was said as a statement.

Vanessa smirked into the phone. It was Brooke. “Using my full name now, huh? You don’t gotta be so professional, mami.”

She heard Brooke sigh and counted it as a win. Getting any reaction from the older woman Vanessa counted as a win. It also just so happened that making her annoyed was incredibly hot, not that Vanessa paid much attention to that, it was just nice to know.

“To New Hytes dance company would like to extend an offer-”

“Yes.”

Vanessa heard the shock in Brooke’s voice. _Another win._ “You don’t even want to talk with your manager? Your family? Your lawyer, maybe?”

“Don’t got a manager or a lawyer.” Vanessa answered simply.

“Well if you act the way you did at the audition, you may want one.”

Vanessa laughed. 

“Whatever you say, Miss Brooke. When do I start?”

“Tonight.”

* * *

Vanessa arrived late, as Brooke expected. 

She looked disheveled in a way that still managed to look breathtaking. Brooke quickly halted that thought pattern and shook her head to clear it.

“Mateo.” Brooke called out. “We don’t tolerate lateness here. I can tell your other jobs were clearly lax, but we have rules here. Rules you have to follow.”

Vanessa flashed a dazzling smile. “Duly noted.”

Practice went on for a grueling eight hours. But it gave Vanessa time to asses her fellow dancers as they took turns running through their respective routines. 

A short brunette stood in front of them, Alyssa was her name from what Vanessa could gather, and called out critiques here and there. It wasn’t usually anything major, just a reminder to point a foot out, or to keep up the energy. The dancers took the comments in stride, tweaking their movements ever so slightly, never letting it take them out of the moment. They looked professional.

For the first time, Vanessa felt a little out of her element. 

Akeria immediately stood out to her as someone she could get along with. The girl does the step part of the show. It was both messy and on time all at once. It was hectic yet practiced - the backup dancers behind her all in time with her leading. She looked like a force to be reckoned with, and Vanessa fought the urge to get up there herself. Instead, she laughed along with Alyssa and the backup dancers at the numerous jokes Akeria made about her ass. 

A young girl with incredibly curly hair was up next. She was dressed in all pink with her tap shoes to match. Vanessa was never really a fan of tap dancing, it always seemingly was too polished for her taste, but this girl, Trixie - she remembered reading on the program - was captivating. She looked to have so much energy that her small frame could barely contain it. She turned and tapped her little heart out in a way that mimicked classic black and white films but with her own flair sprinkled in here and there.

There was a brief intermission as the stage was moved about in preparation for Violet’s number. Vanessa recognized her immediately from the posters and videos she stalked online. The impossibly tall and slim girl did aerial. A large ring hung from the ceiling and Violet twirled and dipped and made it look easy. She had no harness, no safety precautions. Just her and the floor if it came to it. Vanessa couldn’t take her eyes off the young girl.

As Violet descended gracefully, the crew came back onstage to clear away the props and one particularly gorgeous girl with arm muscles the size of her head caught Vannesa’s eye. She made a mental note to get to know her better as the crew all hurried back off stage.

Vanessa sat stone faced when it was Yvie’s turn. She placed herself near the back of the theatre, all alone until a nice-looking redhead came and sat right beside her.

Vanessa turned to her and noticed her watching Yvie intently. “Don’t think I recognize you from the other day.”

“You wouldn’t. I usually keep myself hidden backstage” The girl laughed a bit at her own joke and turned to look at Vanessa. “I’m Scarlet. I’m the stage manager.” Scarlet held out her hand.

“Nice to meet you.” She took Scarlet’s hand in her own. “I’m Vanessa.” Scarlet nodded knowingly and turned back to watch Yvie do some contortionist thing that ended with her head below her knees.

“So what brings you out here?”

“I’m dating that one up there.” She pointed to Yvie.

“Oh.” Vanessa’s face fell.

“Yeah.” The comfortable silence suddenly became fraught with tension. “She told me you guys had a falling out a while back. Didn’t say what it was about, but said you two got into it a lot nowadays.”

Vanessa hummed noncommittally.

“Wanna know what I think? I think it’s cause you’re so similar.”

Vanessa wanted to protest, but bit her tongue as Scarlet continued.

“Hear me out. From what she said, you both are super passionate. You both have a lot of heart and you wear it on your sleeves. I know for a fact when people critique Yves she gets incredibly defensive and goes on the attack. Seems you’re that way too.”

Scarlet was right. Vanessa knew she was right.

It didn’t make it any easier of a pill to swallow. Vanessa was passionate. She loved dancing. Loved it more than anything she could ever remember loving. The world took one look at Vanessa and wrote her off as a woman with a chip on her shoulder and nothing more - she didn’t have anything to offer - she had spent her life proving the world wrong, showing that she was more than a pretty face and an airplane full of baggage. She was a dancer, a star even. She had worth. When the whole situation with Yvie went down...it brought back those feelings of worthlessness. She had snapped. 

Yvie had too.

But Vanessa had snapped. Said things she didn’t mean. Things she knew would hurt the other girl. The funny thing was they had gotten along pretty well up until then.

Scarlet was right.

Yvie’s music ended and Alyssa gave her a few notes. Yvie hardly paid her any mind as she made a beeline for Scarlet. She gave her a quick peck on the lips when her eyes suddenly fell on Vanessa. 

Her face immediately hardened. “What’re you guys talking about?”

Scarlet smiled up at her girlfriend. “The only thing I ever talk about: you, my love”

Yvie gave her a huge smile and another peck on the cheek. She still looked warily at Vanessa.

Vanessa bit the bullet. The world tried to pit girls like her and Yvie against each other as it was. Vanessa wasn’t going to help it. “Yvie, I’m real sorry about everything that went down with us. I think we both just kinda got outta control.”

Yvie looked at Vanessa even more curiously now. She shot a glance at Scarlet who nodded her head encouragingly. Yvie didn’t break eye contact with Scarlet as she addressed Vanessa. 

“Think you may be right.” She pulled her eyes away from Scarlet and stuck out her hand. “Truce?”

Vanessa accepted it graciously. “Truce.” 

Yvie rolled her eyes at Scarlet’s shit-eating grin and directed her next words at Vanessa. “Look at this one, makin’ me a better person and shit.”

Vanessa laughed. “Sounds like a keeper.”

Yvie smiled and Vanessa had never seen her happier. “She is.”

“Mateo!”

“Oh, that’s my cue.” Vanessa said before she awkwardly clambered over the lovers to get up on stage.

Brooke stood next to Alyssa now. She looked completely transformed from the audition. No more stuffy blazer and heels. She was wearing low hanging sweatpants and a tank top that showed off her ridiculously toned frame. Her hair was tied back in a bun, which kept up her appearance of ‘boss lady.’ Not to mention the clipboard in her hands full of sharp lines and swooping letters. Pages and pages of notes and critiques. The sight made Vanessa’s stomach twist.

“You’re on probation starting today, seeing as we have no idea if we’re even going to keep you on-”

“You’ll keep me on.”

Brooke ignored her interruption “-and you won’t be performing with us for at least a week. Alyssa is going to run through some basic choreo for your number for if we do decide to keep you.” Brooke looked up from her clipboard with a self satisfied smirk. “Try to keep up.”

It was a challenge.

Vanessa was never one to back down from a challenge.

The choreo was difficult. Vanessa would have expected nothing less. But it only took her two run throughs to get it down. Alyssa was encouraging and patient. She took Vanessa through step by step of the especially difficult parts and congratulated her when she finally got it.

Brooke watched passively, the only cue Vanessa got from her was a small quirking up of her mouth when she finally nailed it all on the third try. It made Vanessa unreasonably happy to know that she impressed Brook, or at least, placated her for now. 

“Mateo, you’re good.”

Vanessa smiled and mimed a curtsey, drawing a chuckle from Alyssa, before she made her way off stage. She looked around for Yvie and Scarlet, but the two had vanished. Vanessa decided she probably didn’t want to know where they were. 

She sat herself in the middle of the theatre now, and watched as two more girls took the stage to do a burlesque number. It was fun and sexy in all the right ways and made Vanessa chuckle a time or two.

The music cut out, and the girls filed off the stage to sit in the audience. 

Vanessa waited patiently for the next act and found herself slightly surprised when Brooke took the stage. The older woman pulled off the hair tie and let her long blonde locks fall around her face. Vanessa’s stomach twisted again.

As Brooke took center stage, Vanessa noticed most of the other dancers had returned from wherever they had disappeared to. Vanessa eyed them curiously. 

Nina appears from somewhere backstage with another woman in tow, camera around her neck, to come sit next to Vanessa.

Nina and the other woman traded a few words and a few secret smiles when Vanessa interrupted. “Is she really that good?” She tilted her head toward Brooke.

Nina quirked the side of her mouth up. “Just watch.”

The music started and Brooke suddenly was present. It was like time seemed to slow all of a sudden. She perked up immediately and began to dance. Her long legs began to cut through the air in a way that was graceful yet brutal. Her arms floated away from her body. She was on pointe for god sakes but she didn’t look strained in the least. She looked alive. She looked like the most beautiful woman Vanessa had ever seen. Brooke was just dancing. It shouldn’t have been so impactful. 

But it was.

Yes, she was just dancing, physically, her body was moving with the music, but it felt like more. As an audience member it felt like you were seeing someone breathe for the first time. It felt like you were witnessing life.

Brooke was a vision to watch.

Vanessa felt privileged to even sit in front of her.

The music swelled and Brooke swelled with it. 

Brooke’s long hair was flowing out around her, almost like a halo. She looked angelic and suddenly Vanessa got it. Got why this company worked so well. When you have a backbone like Brooke, who comes alive when she dances. Who made everyone realize why they love dancing in the first place. 

It made everything fall into place.

When the music ended, Vanessa realized she was holding her breath. 

Nina noted her reaction with a sly smile and spoke softly. “Yeah.”

Brooke noticed Vanessa. Picked her out of the crowd and gave a smirk of her own. It made Vanessa’s insides flare with...something. 

Something that felt all too fearful and familiar.

_Fuck_ she thought. _This is gonna be a long tour._


	2. The Senior Stage Crew Member and The Costume Designer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blair and Kameron find themselves bonding over their respective passions, Brooke loses her cool at Vanessa, and Nina and Monet think they all should just make out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this entire work would not be possible without my lovely betas Meggie and Grapefruit. You girls keep me young!

Blair sat back and admired her work. 

Vanjie - or as the young dancer has insisted - Vanessa, looked like a vision in gold. Blair patted herself on the back mentally for the fringe that hung off of her small frame ever so delicately. 

“Now I know she said you ain’t performin’ for a few weeks, but thought I’d get your measurements and stuff done heada time.”

Vanessa gave her a winning smile.

“I don’t mind pretty girls like you takin’ my measurements.”

Blair blushed and ducked her head a bit. The young costume designer wasn’t used to getting compliments often, so she tried to ignore how her brain short circuited at the statement.

“What about shoes? You good in a heel?” She tried to change the subject.

Vanessa nodded. “Nothin’ too tall though. Can’t be breaking myself out there.”

Blair laughed lightly and turned to the closet on the far wall. She rifled through a few boxes before coming back with a sensible heel.

“I’m a size six.”

“I know.”

“Who told you?”

“Nobody. I just got a gift for knowin’ people’s sizes I guess.”

“Pretty and smart, huh?”

Blair blushed again. “A dancer and a flirt, huh?” she shot back.

Vanessa laughed, loud and unhinged. It took Blair aback for a moment before she let herself laugh too. It felt freeing in a way.

“Not to rain on your parade or nuthin’, and I appreciate the compliments, but I don’t date dancers.”

“Oh yeah? Too many broken hearts?”

Blair nodded firmly and Vanessa didn’t press the issue.

“Oh well.” Vanessa sighed overdramatically. “Guess I can settle for friends.”

Blair smiled. “Friends it is.”

* * *

Kameron never imagined she’d end up here.

Maybe she was torturing herself. Being so close to the thing she loved. The thing she still craved like a drug. 

It didn’t happen suddenly either. She had been with the company since the beginning. When it was just a thought Brooke tossed out one drunken night.

Brooke, Nina, and Monet had gone over to Kameron’s place with the thought of going out and letting loose, but had ended up on her worn down furniture passing a bottle of wine around in a circle. Nina has been too focused on Monet’s antics to really hear the idea, but Kameron jumped up as soon as she heard it, albeit she jumped up gracelessly and almost fell back on her ass.

She smiled at the memory now. She doubted anyone knew that she was one of the original co-founders of the now acclaimed company. Not that she cared much for the recognition.

She had spearheaded the whole process, looking into spaces to rehearse and business laws. It was a lot of work and long nights. Brooke had been right there with her through it all though. It had been nice to have a friend, a sister almost, supporting her and putting in just as much work. 

Nina and Monet had thought they were crazy. Off and running with this idea that was never going to pan out.

They were all fresh out of out of NYU after all. They were baby adults, living off of ramen noodles and Red Bull, but still... No one expected them to make it.

That was when Kameron had the idea. A YouTube channel. They could rent a dance space for a few hours and bang out three to four videos. She and Brooke performed duets and solos, any style they wanted. They had fun. Kameron sometimes would miss those days before their lives got so hectic. When she and Brooke would pass out on a studio floor because they had filmed in one night enough videos to last them a week.

The channel grew slowly, and then not so slowly. Almost overnight they had amassed enough followers and garnered enough views to buy their own studio. It was teeny tiny and run down. It needed a lot of TLC for sure, but it was theirs. 

Almost overnight the dance world was looking to them for the next big thing. It was incredibly intimidating, scary even, but Brooke and Kameron were ready.

Nina agreed to stage mom duties as well as marketing, and Monet enthusiastically accepted the offer to take pictures, dusting off her old camera. 

It was all starting to come together.

Then it all went wrong.

Kameron quickly pulled herself out of those thoughts. The memory of a too bright stage light still burned her eyes.

“Are you ok?” came a small voice to Kameron’s left. 

Kameron had been so lost in thought that she hardly realized she had been sitting on the floor for nearly ten minutes now, back leaning against a large speaker. 

Kameron sat up immediately and looked at Blair. The sweet girl was looking at her, concern creeping into the reassuring smile she gave.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Well, your nose is bleeding a bit there.”

Kameron’s hand shot up to touch lightly at her aforementioned affliction. When she pulled her hand away, bright red coated her fingers.

“Come here, darlin’, come sit with me.”

Kameron bit back her reply that this happened all the time, curiosity getting the better of her.

Blair took Kameron’s hand and the older girl surprisingly didn’t jump at the contact.

Blair weaved through the backstage area like she had done it a million times before. Kameron supposed she had. The costume designer rarely made it out on stage, except during rehearsals to solve a fashion emergency, so moving around in the shadows must have been a frequent pastime of hers. 

Blair opened the door to her small office space off near the side exit of the theatre. It was cluttered with half-finished garments on every surface and sketches that lined the walls. The mannequins looked passively at the two as they made their way to the stools near the back of rows of costumes.

Blair tilted Kameron’s face up with the pads of her fingers that left sparks in their wake. Kameron looked up at her as the young woman searched for tissues in the crowded workspace. 

Kameron let her eyes wander around the office until they fell on a nearly finished sketch hanging out of a notebook on the desk. 

“What’s that one? It doesn’t look like any of the girls we have on tour.”

“Oh that’s nothin’.” Blair quickly shoved the paper back in the notebook, but winced at the crinkling sound it made.

She came to stand in front of Kameron, eyes trained on the red liquid still fresh around her nose. Blair dabbed at it hesitantly, almost as if she were scared to hurt Kameron. Kameron’s heart surged at the thought.

Blair studied the area closely, but avoided eye contact. She resolutely kept her eyes trained on the afflicted area, and no higher. It made the tension in the room raise noticeably.

When Blair was satisfied with her work, she sat down in the stool across Kameron, their knees would be touching if Blair hadn’t pulled hers closer to her body, almost unconsciously.

“All better.”

Kameron smiled at her and Blair smiled back. It was a rare moment of silence. Of peace.

They both started laughing at the same time. Breaking the silence and the ice between the senior stage crew member and the costume designer. They must have looked crazy. Sitting and laughing at each other like old friends.

They hardly knew each other, really. If you didn’t count passing greetings in the hallway they were perfect strangers. Still, Kameron hadn’t laughed this hard in a while. It was refreshing and terrifying that this person, this stranger, could bring a part of her she thought she’d lost, to the forefront.

Kameron stuck out her hand. “I’m Kameron, but everyone calls me Kam.”

“Nice to finally meet you, Kameron. I’m Blair.”

“Oh, I know who you are. I’ve seen you around before. Never said ‘hi’ or anything ‘cause most people treat us crew members like we got the plague.”

Blair suddenly looked seriously at her. “I’m sorry for that. Y’all are the reason the whole show is possible, I imagine it’s frustratin’ not havin’ your hard work appreciated.”

“You’re one to talk! The costumes you make, you make from scratch, yeah? All of them original and come from your head. That is a talent that goes underrecognized, I bet.”

Blair blushed and looked down, avoiding eye contact. “Well, yeah, I suppose. But I’m not in it for the recognition. I just love designin’, ya know?” Blair looked up, meeting Kameron’s eye finally. “You ever had that thing you love more than anythin’ else in the world, and nothin’ could ever take you from it. Like even if you tried you couldn’t give it up?”

Kameron nodded. She did have something like that once. 

“Show me your favorite design then. Something you wouldn’t give up for anything in the world.”

“Oh, I don’t have a-”

“Don’t give me that. I know you’ve got one. C’mon, I’m sure it’s just as phenomenal as all the other ones, if not more so.” Kameron winked.

Blair blushed and looked away again. Kameron thought she looked even more beautiful with color high on her cheeks. 

Blair stood up and turned back to the notebook Kameron had eyed earlier. She opened it up and Kameron saw every page covered in different outfits on the same model. The model girl looked nothing like any of the dancers they had in the company. 

As if sensing her question, Blair quickly rambled out, “She isn’t supposed to be anybody in particular! Just a model for the outfits. I don’t know why she keeps popping up in my head, but when she does, I sketch out a costume for her and send her on her way.”

Kameron looked up at her with a goofy smile. 

“I’m not crazy! I know I sound it sometimes,” Blair defended herself.

Kameron laughed. “You don’t sound crazy at all. But you are lying to me.”

Blair looked taken aback for a moment before Kameron explained. “She _is_ somebody in particular. Who is she?”

Blair sighed. “You’re good at that, ya know? Readin’ people.”

“I know,” Kameron answered confidently. 

Blair laughed but it was with less joy than before. “Her name was Brianna. We dated for almost three years. She danced and I did her costumes.” Kameron nodded along, encouraging Blair to keep going, if she wanted. “We worked well together, ya know? One of those couples that just _worked_.” Blair took in a breath. “And when it stopped workin’, we just didn’t mention it. We pushed on for the sake of her career, and mine too, but mostly hers.”

“Wait, Brianna Palandrani?”

Blair groaned. “Yup. That’s the one.”

“She married that Giovanni guy right? The heir to that million dollar makeup company?”

“They got married a week after we broke up.”

“You’re kidding! Oh my god Blair, I’m so sorry.”

Blair shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s really not. That’s horrible.”

“Her career was important to her, I always supported that, but then it became more important than me and my feelins.”

“I’m so sorry, Blair. You deserve better.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean it.”

Blair swallowed heavily, the tension was suddenly back, but it felt a bit different this time. “What’s done is done. But I made a promise to myself that day: no more dancers.”

Kameron’s heart sank a bit at that. “So you decided to surround yourself with them every day of your life? Seems a bit counterintuitive.”

“I’m puttin’ my career first. For the first time, I’m being selfish and focusin’ on me. Gettin’ my designs and name out there.”

Kameron smiled wide. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Kameron.”

“You can call me Kam, you know, everyone else does.”

“I like Kameron. It suits you.”

It was Kameron’s turn to blush.

Their little bubble of peace was suddenly broken by a disheveled Yvie slamming the door open, looking around the room wildly. 

“Kam. We may need you onstage.”

Kameron looked at her quizzically, but followed after the contortionist. She shot one last apologetic look at Blair before the door shut silently behind her.

* * *

Never in her life had Brooke yelled at someone like this. Let alone one of her dancers.

“You can’t speak to me like that, I’m your boss!”

“You sure don’t fuckin’ act like it. Gettin all mad and shit from a little comment. Not very professional of you, mami.”

Vanjie was calm, collected, and cocky, which made Brooke lose it even more. 

“What the hell would you know about acting professional?”

“Clearly a bit more than you, since I’m not currently screaming at one of my employees.”

Brooke was seeing red. She wanted to scream some more, wanted to put the fear of god into Vanjie. Wanted to wipe that smug fucking smile off her face for good. And suddenly it hit her like a ton of bricks. 

It took all her willpower not to smirk triumphantly. She breathed in and out and suddenly, Brooke was composed, calm, yet predatory. 

“I’m sorry, Mateo. That was out of line.”

Vanjie’s jaw nearly fell to the floor. Everyone’s jaw nearly fell to the floor. Was Brooke Lynn Hytes, the Head Bitch herself apologizing? To Vanjie of all people?

Vanjie didn’t have a response. Didn’t have any words. 

Brooke let herself smirk at that reaction. She wasn’t going to give Vanjie the fight she was aiming for. She was going to give her the opposite. Two can play at Vanjie’s game. And Brooke hated losing.

Brooke turned her head to her other dancers and raised her eyebrows expectantly. “The show must go on, ladies. Up and at ‘em. Let’s go.”

The dancers quickly made their way up the stage, shock still clear on their faces, but the boss was still the boss, apology or not. 

Brooke surveyed them for a few minutes before she decided to cool down in her office. She made her way up the stairs but paused when she reached the office door. 

She heard muffled voices through the wood.

* * *

Nina sat in her and Brooke’s shared office. Brooke liked to think of it as her own office, but as Nina did all the heavy lifting, she considered it a shared office. 

Monet was sitting in the armchair across from the desk looking through photo after photo from the camera around her neck. Nina watched her. She found herself watching the younger girl a lot these days. Call it mere exposure effect, call it fate, call it the lack of girlfriend, Nina didn’t care. She liked looking at Monet. Liked how the younger girl carried herself. Liked that she put others first.

“Any salvageable ones?” 

Monet smiled, still looking down at her camera. “Hmmm, I dunno. You tell me.” She hopped up from her seat and came around the desk to stand next to Nina. She pulled out her memory card and some device Nina still couldn’t figure out, although she was sure Monet had explained it to her many times over. Monet plugged the device into the computer and they waited in a comfortable silence for a few seconds before the pictures popped up.

Nina clicked on the first few. They were of Violet, of course. Monet had admitted once that Violet was her favorite to take pictures of. “She gives so many good angles, and there’s not a flaw to be seen on that bitch.” Nina had rolled her eyes.

Monet pulled up a chair and the two sat side by side scrolling through pictures. Most of them were incredible, as always, a few were silly candids. The one that caught Nina’s eye though was a picture of herself. 

It was of her backstage, with the stage lights in front of her. It was clearly edited with a black and white filter over it, but it didn’t look staged. It looked organic. It captured Nina in her favorite spot, just offstage. Supporting her friends and their passion. It looked like some artsy film project from college. She looked majestic. Nina paused on it for a minute.

Monet looked at her worriedly. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s beautiful.” Nina meant it.

Monet shrugged. “I had a lot of beauty to work with.”

Nina could have snapped. Could have acted on the growing attraction they both had been feeling for the past few months. Could have just leaned over right then and kissed Monet senseless. 

She didn’t.

Monet broke the suddenly thick tension with a cough. “There’s more.” She reached across and clicked to the next picture. It was another picture of Nina, this time, her face was visible and she was looking off - probably at one of the dancers - she looked so incredibly happy. Monet blushed and clicked through what must have been at least twenty more photos before finally coming to one that wasn’t of Nina.

This one was of Brooke standing with her arms crossed looking up at an equally cocky looking Vanessa. 

“I think you captured their dynamic perfectly.”

Monet laughed again, effectively breaking up the tension a little more. “Honestly, I’m waiting for one of them to snap and just start sucking face one day.”

“Me too!” 

“No way, you were getting that vibe too! God, I swear they just need to fuck some of that anger out of each other, maybe it would make Brooke less uptight.”

“Hey!” Nina said defensively.

“Oh bitch, we all friends, don’t pretend she hasn’t been a stick in the mud since she became the boss.”

“She’s just stressed,” Nina insisted, less forcefully this time as the smile started to eat away at her face. 

“Know how she could get some of that stress out?”

Nina laughed and it echoed around the room.

* * *

Brooke’s mouth hung open so long she was surely going to swallow a bug.

Did her friends really think she was into Vanjie? Sure the girl was hotter than hell. Sure she met every one of Brooke’s comebacks with an equally snarky one. Sure she had wormed her way into Brooke’s mind from day one. Sure Brooke thought about her all the time. 

Did Brooke like Vanjie?

“Fuck.” Brooke was pulled out of her thoughts by the door to her office being swung directly into her face.

“Oops! Sorry, B!” Monet apologized immediately, then she paused. “Wait, how long have you been standing there?”

“Since you two started flirting, so, the whole time.”

Monet blushed but pushed past Brooke and headed for the stairs she had just come up. “Well, you know what they say about eavesdroppers,” she spoke over her shoulder.

“What do they say?” Brooke called after her.

“They only ever hear the truth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me on tumblr @imalwaysaslutfordrag


	3. The Tap Dancer and The Stranger at the Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa is pissed, Brooke doesn't care, Kameron is most probably falling in love, and Trixie meets an interesting woman at the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meggie is a literal angel and a blessing to this earth and my writing. <3

Vanessa looked out the window to the bus and observed the passing greenery. There was a strange sort of calm she always got when travelling that made the passing trees look friendly.

The other passengers did not have this same sense of calm, however. Specifically, Scarlet. 

The young stage manager was anxiously looking around the bus, knee bouncing up and down so aggressively that Yvie had to place her hand on Scarlet’s leg at least four times during the trip. The older girl finally gave up after the fifth time and threw her own legs into her girlfriend’s lap to stop the bouncing.

Scarlet gave her an apologetic smile but Yvie reassured her it was fine with a small peck. 

Vanessa groaned in the seat across from them.

“You two are disgustin’.”

“They’re always like that, get used to it, chica,” A’keria spoke up from beside Vanessa, without looking up from her book.

Trixie popped up from the back of the bus to yell over to them. “Do you guys remember when we were in Stockholm and they got caught-”

“Okay, okay. Enough! We get it!” Scarlet interrupted, face flushed all of a sudden.

Vanessa turned back to A’keria who rolled her eyes at Scarlet and Yvie’s PDA.

“How’d that happen?” Vanessa whispered, tilting her head in the direction of the young couple.

“Honestly, I’m not really sure,” A’keria admitted, finally pulling her attention away from the book in her lap. “For as long as I’d known Scarlet, she didn’t look twice at anyone who was interested in her. Then one day Yvie and her started talking. It was weird cause all the sudden they both started acting like middle schoolers.” A’keria motioned to the couple in question as if to say ‘see what I mean,’ before continuing. “Scarlet softened almost overnight and started talking to the rest of us like we were people finally, and Yvie has had that dumb smile on her face ever since.”

“They seem like polar opposites.”

“They do, don’t they? That’s the weird thing too.” A’keria shrugged. “But they work real well together. And for all the grief we give ‘em, they make each other better.”

Vanessa hummed.

Satisfied with her answer for now, Vanessa chanced a look around the bus, taking in the faces of her fellow dancers.

A row ahead of her, Nina and Monet were putting the final touches on the promo video for the North American tour. Call it last minute, call it procrastination, call it lazy, Vanessa had noted that Nina and Monet did their best work when under a time crunch. They were giggling and joking like they were the only two people in the world.

A few rows back, Trixie and Blair were talking animatedly about something or another. Blair was rifling through notebook after notebook to Trixie’s repeated squeals of joy.

Violet sat in the very back with the girls from the burlesque number - Dela and Jinkx were their names from what Vanessa could remember - they sat squashed between a few crew members. They all chatted like old friends while Violet scrolled through her phone looking bored out of her skull - so her usual look.

Brooke and Kameron sat in the front looking out the windows and whispering with small smiles on their faces. 

It was weird seeing Brooke so calm. Nerves not eating at her, stress not making her snap. She and Kameron looked at peace with each other. It made something settle in Vanessa’s stomach, something… decidedly not pleasant.

Brooke glanced over at her and caught her staring. Vanessa blushed. She fucking blushed and Brooke shot her a smirk before turning back to her conversation. Kameron gave Brooke a knowing smile and rolled her eyes.

Vanessa was fucked.

* * *

Kameron placed the last piece of equipment in the truck.

She turned back to the now empty theatre; most of the crew members had turned in for the night after Kameron assured them that she had it handled.

This was Kameron’s favorite part of the job. When the theatre was empty, the adrenaline humm in the air was still present, but less intense. It was like a warm blanket wrapped around shoulders that made her feel like anything was possible.

It was also two thirty in the morning. The added sleep deprivation might have also played a part in the feeling.

She made her way back into the theatre, checking to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.

She looked out at the now empty audience. The urge she always got when standing on a stage was brought back. It gnawed at her gut like a hunger from which she would never be full.

She sighed in and out and looked left and right, even though she knew no one was around. _Fine. Fine,_ she said to the urge._ Just once._

Kameron took center stage, ignored the unrelenting nerves and let herself breathe, finally. She hadn’t danced in almost two years. She didn’t know if she could still do it. 

Who was she kidding? Of course she could still do it. 

She let herself breathe, filled her lungs with air that felt like long nights and early mornings in a studio she didn’t own. 

In and out. 

Then, she let go.

She let years of fear and nerves and holding herself back disappear like they never existed. 

She let her body find its rhythm. She turned and dipped and moved like she didn’t let two years of fear keep her from doing this thing she loved. Kameron brought her arms up to float beside her. They found their timing. It took a moment, but they found their timing.

She let her head slow down and her body take over. The music that was always playing in her mind came to a crescendo. She let it happen.

And when it was over, she let herself come to a stop. She breathed in and out heavily and tried to keep from smiling like an idiot. 

She failed.

A soft clapping from behind her jolted Kameron out of her head. Blair was standing on the side of the stage looking at her like she was a vision. Like she was beautiful. Like she still has it.

Kameron felt so incredibly powerful and scared shitless at the same time.

She blushed but mimed a bow, making Blair giggle.

“You didn’t tell me you were a dancer!”

Kameron walked over to her slowly stumbling over her words and trying to keep from stumbling her feet. “I’m not. Well, not anymore.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Blair teased.

Kameron smiled. 

Blair smiled back.

“You’re a little late ya know, you gotta wait for a real audience next time.” 

“You are a real audience.” Kameron’s mind spoke before she could stop it.

Blair blushed but hesitated a moment before speaking. “Why don’t you-”

“The limelight isn’t really my thing.”

Blair gave her a knowing smile. “Now you’re the one lyin’ to me.”

Kameron bit her lip at her own words echoed back at her.

She sighed. 

“You don’t gotta tell me if ya don’t want to,” Blair quickly reassured. “I just… I think you’re real good. That’s all. Didn’t mean to overstep.”

Kameron tried to placate her, while at the same time not giving too much away.“You didn’t. It’s just… not a pretty story.”

“You think just cause I make pretty things I can’t handle a little ugly?”

“No, I just mean-”

Blair cut her off gently. “I know what you mean, Kameron. It’s okay. You don’t gotta tell me yet.” 

Kameron wanted to. God, she really wanted to. She had no idea why, but she trusted Blair implicitly. Maybe it was the young girl’s openness at their first meeting. Or maybe it was how kind her eyes looked. Maybe it was because Kameron was assuredly falling in love with her.

“One day, I will. I promise,” Kameron spoke softly.

“One day,” Blair echoed.

* * *

Vanessa was pissed.

It had been almost a month since she joined the company and she hadn’t performed once with them.

She had her number all prepared. 

Actually, her number was more than prepared. It was technically perfect.

She had been so hell-bent on getting it right that Vanessa recruited Alyssa to work with her after hours. Vanessa had spent hours upon hours perfecting her craft, not including the additional hours when she rehearsed with the other girls.

And still, she wasn’t allowed to perform.

Vanessa was pissed.

Vanessa stormed up to the nearest dancer, all flames and Puerto Rican spitfire. “Where’s the boss?” she demanded.

“She’s somewhere back there.” Violet barely looked up from inspecting her nails and waved her hand dismissively to the backstage of the theatre they were performing at tonight. 

Vanessa took off in the vague direction Violet gave. She wandered around for a few moments before spotting the ridiculously tall ballerina in the corner on her phone.

Vanessa set her jaw and stormed up to Brooke.

“What gives?”

Brooke looked up from her phone and gave Vanessa a once over. “What do you want, Mateo?”

“You brought me on, make me work my ass off every day of my life but still won’t let me perform.”

“You aren’t ready,” Brooke answered simply.

“The fuck you mean I’m not ready? I been doin’ the damn work.”

Brooke tucked her phone in her pocket. Vanessa now had her full attention. It was almost too intense to be on the receiving end of the unyielding stare.

Brooke took a few steps forward, crowding into Vanessa’s space. 

Vanessa didn’t back down, no matter how much she wanted to cower.

“You. Aren’t. Ready.” Brooke punctuated each word with a step forward.

They were inches apart now, tiptoeing ever closer to the line they had drawn on day one. It was equal parts exhilarating and scary. 

“You’re wrong.” Vanessa cursed her voice for breaking.

“I’m never wrong.” Brooke answered cooly, as she took another step _impossibly_ closer. “But maybe this is a first. Maybe bringing you on was a mistake.” Brooke looked up to the ceiling like she was thinking for a moment, like she was genuinely considering firing Vanessa. The next second, Brooke’s eyes were burning holes into Vanessa’s own. “Was it?” 

“No,” Vanessa whispered.

Brooke pressed her luck. “No, what?”

_Fuck_

“No, mami.”

Brooke gave a huge smirk.

_Checkmate._

Brooke tucked a piece of Vanesa’s hair behind her ear. “Next time I see you, your hair better be pulled back.” The gentle gesture was perverted by Brooke’s tone. Commanding and stern, but with an edge of… something else. “I have rules, or did you forget already?” 

_I have rules._

_Brooke said I. Not we. Not the company. Brooke._

_Brooke had rules._

Vanessa watched, mouth agape, stomach still somersaulting, as Brooke turned on her heel and left without another word.

* * *

Trixie didn’t like going out.

So, when Violet and A’keria drag their fellow performers and crew members out to a local bar to ‘let loose’ Trixie planned on calling it an early night and curling up in her hotel room with some Netflix and shitty hotel food.

But it was A’keria’s birthday, and she insisted that everyone adhere to her every whim. She had practically pulled Trixie out of her room and all the way to the Uber.

Trixie resigned herself to the bar for the night and sipped her drink for a while, aimlessly searching the room for anything interesting.

She noticed Nina and Brooke on the dance floor chatting loudly over the music. They were giggling like children and hanging off each other in a way that betrayed their ‘just friends’ label.

Vanessa was standing by the far wall with Kameron, finding any excuse to touch up on her arms.

Monet was sat next to Trixie staring none too subtly at Nina and Brooke. 

A’keria and Violet were chatting with their latest conquests. Trixie rolled her eyes at the poor girls who had fallen into their trap.

Trixie got so lost in her own head she hardly noticed the young blonde sliding up next to her.

A thick Russian accent accompanied the woman’s presence. “Friends dragged you out too?”

Trixie turned her head to look at the woman. She was dressed...eccentrically. That was the only word that really encaptured the woman. She had on a t-shirt dress covered in bright red rhinestones with her hair in a style that resembled braided space buns, but if you looked close enough, it just looked to be a tangled mess. Her knee high boots and hand earrings completed the odd look.

“How’d you figure that one?”

“It’s the only reason such a pretty girl would be looking anywhere but at me,” the stranger replied with a wink.

Trixie laughed. 

_So eccentric and cocky._ The stranger was beautiful, Trixie gave her that. She was that kind of weird beauty that took a second to sink it. But it did sink in.

“Gotta lot of confidence for such a plain Jane,” Trixie shot back.

“Oh, baby, there ain’t nothin’ plain about me.” The stranger had suddenly lost her Russian accent, causing Trixie to do a double take. 

The stranger just laughed.

Trixie tried to not let it phase her, and kept her tone light and teasing. “You’re telling me. I mean, who wears that to a club?” Trixie nodded in the direction of the stranger’s attire.

The stranger suddenly got very sullen and cast her eyes downwards. “It was my _babushka’s_.” The stranger spoke softly now. “She passed recently. This was her favorite outfit.”

“Oh, fuck-”

“Katya,” the stranger interrupted, through sniffles.

“Katya, I’m so sorry.”

The stranger - Katya - turned away from Trixie and the young girl could only make out her shoulders shaking in the dim bar light.

_Great fucking job, Trixie, you finally get the guts to talk to a girl and she’s now crying._

It took an embarrassingly long time for Trixie to realize that Katya was not actually crying, but laughing.

“I’m messing with you, _myshka_!” Katya said through giggles as she turned back around in her chair to meet Trixie’s eyes. 

The younger girl punched her in the arm, her face tried to conjure up a look of anger, but settled on bemusement. “That’s not funny! You can’t do that to people!” 

Trixie should have been mad… or weirded out at the least. She wasn’t. She was...intrigued.

“Well, you aren’t just people, now are you?” The flirty tone and lack of accent were back with full force again. 

Trixie felt like she had whiplash.

“What makes you say that?”

“I have a knack for spotting interesting people.”

“Oh really?” Katya nodded. “Anyone else interesting here, besides yours truly of course.”

“Of course,” Katya echoed with a predatory smile. “Well, you see that short one in the corner over there? The one touching up on that absolute beefcake of a woman?”

“Her name is Vanessa.” Trixie interjects.

“Ahhh, Vanessa. Makes sense.”

“Does it?” 

“Hmmm, yes, she was a knight in a past life.” At Trixie’s confused laugh, Katya explained, “Did I fail to mention I’m also a psychic?”

“You seem to be failing to mention a lot of things.”

“Ahh, yes, such is the fault of a genius, I’m afraid.” Katya pointed to her own head, and Trixie laughed again.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Trixie’s mouth spoke before her brain could process. “You are by far the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

Katya didn’t miss a beat. “Wait till you meet my grandmother!”

Trixie laughed, a full bellied one that left her straining to catch her breath. She didn’t. Or she couldn’t. At least not until later.

She and Katya talked for what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes. The banter was easy and fun. Light and sexy at the same time that it was deep and meaningful. 

Trixie would have been content to sit at the bar all night and day hearing Katya talk. Her accent harsh, but her words soft as they spoke about the places she’d been or the people she’d loved.

It was the kind of immediate connection you felt with a person. Almost like your whole life had been leading up to this one interaction. Or maybe that was just Trixie’s romanticism getting the best of her.

Because only a few moments later, their little bubble was burst by Dela grabbing Trixie’s arm to pull her attention and whispering that they had to get back to the hotel _now_. Something about Nina needing to be taken care of.

Trixie looked over to see that yes, Nina did in fact need some assistance. She was practically hanging off Brooke for stability and stumbling around the room, running into people left and right. At one point, she even leant up to kiss Brooke on the forehead. That was the point at which Trixie knew she was needed.

Trixie shot Katya an apologetic look before getting up to help her friend. Katya stopped her with a hand to her wrist. 

The enigmatic woman reached over the bar, much to the chagrin of the bartender, to knick a pen. She left her phone number in swooping numbers and a little heart with an arrow through it on Trixie’s wrist.

The younger girl tried to not swoon at the sight.

She left Katya with a wink and a promise to text her before being dragged out of the bar to the cool night air.

As soon as she got the chance, Trixie saved the contact in her phone with an emoji of a heart with an arrow through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr @imalwaysaslutfordrag
> 
> I have no life, so I'm always there!


	4. The Co-Director and The Photographer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nina and Monet blur the lines of their friendship, Brooke and Vanessa banter, and Kameron's muscled arms are surprisingly comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot sing the praises of Meggie and Grapefruit enough for everything they do. They talk me off the ledge with this fic practically on the daily. They are tremendously kind and supportive and hard on me when I need it. Love my gals <3

Monet didn’t know what to do.

Nina was seriously drunk. She was drunk in a way that almost rivaled their days back in college. 

Nina was plastered to Brooke’s side and had been that way all night. Monet knew she didn’t have the right to be upset, but that didn’t keep her from feeling that way. 

Nina held Brooke’s hand the whole ride back to the hotel and rested her head atop the taller girl’s shoulder. The rest of the girls in the car were too busy to notice how close they were. Or if they did, it didn’t seem to matter.

Blair was keeping her voice low as she spoke into her phone. Something about a design she was shipping getting lost. She seemed a bit distressed.

Vanessa was too absorbed in watching Brooke like a hawk. Every inch of her fingers along Nina’s skin made Vanessa squint harder in annoyance.

Trixie was giggling to herself looking at her phone. The buzzing that signaled a new message was nearly constant.

Kameron was looking out the window, admiring the passing scenery of the city at night.

Monet wished she were anywhere else in the world other than pressed right next to Nina in a car that felt like it was growing smaller by the minute.

“You two wanna get a room?” Monet finally snapped.

Brooke, who was drunk, but not drunk enough to be tolerating the treatment from Nina, looked over at Monet with a questioning look.

Monet rolled her eyes and pressed herself further into the car door, trying to escape any contact of her and Nina’s skin. It didn’t work. What was worse was that sparks were still running along Monet’s hip, settling in her gut.

They finally got to the hotel and tipped the Uber driver extra for having to deal with their drunk party. 

In the elevator, Brooke took Nina’s arm from around her shoulders and pushed her gently toward Monet. The younger girl suddenly had her arms full of a very drunk and very touchy Nina. 

Monet wasn’t complaining. 

Nina was pressed between Monet and the elevator wall and was taking full advantage of being mostly hidden from the other girls. She trailed her hands over Monet’s shoulder and back with a reverence that made Monet want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

Brooke gave Monet a knowing smile and stepped behind Vanessa, who looked satisfied now that the contact with Nina was finished. Monet noticed that Vanessa instinctively stepped back a bit, so Brooke’s front was flush against her.

The elevator was crowded, sure, but not crowded enough that those two needed to be that close.

Brooke smirked at the back of Vanessa’s head and moved her knee in between Vanessa’s legs and ever so slightly upwards. Monet didn’t have to look to see Vanessa’s reaction, because the younger girl gasped under her breath.

The rest of the occupants in the elevator seemed oblivious to Brooke and Vanessa’s game, so Monet looked away, and tried not to focus on Nina’s wandering hands.

When the elevator finally signaled a floor, Brooke moved her knee more forcefully upwards, causing Vanessa to bite her lip and her eyes to widen. As the doors opened, Brooke pulled her leg away and sauntered out of the elevator, shooting Monet a smirk, and Vanessa a wink.

Monet rolled her eyes but Nina caught her.

“What’s wrong, ‘Net? Are you mad at B? Don’t be mad at her,” Nina whined.

Monet tried not to find the pet name endearing. Tried to not find any of it endearing.

She failed.

“No, I’m not mad at B.” 

“You seem mad at her. Is it cause she’s fucking Vanjie?”

At this, the rest of the company finally took notice. 

Vanessa’s face flushed bright red as she spluttered out “We’re not- I’m not- we-” 

The elevator chimed again and Vanessa rushed off the elevator amidst shocked looks from the rest of the girls. 

Kameron exited the elevator with Blair - who was still on the phone - in tow at the next floor and shot Monet a questioning look as if to say ‘you got this?’ Monet nodded and Kameron flashed her a thumbs up before the door closed, leaving Nina and Monet as the only ones left in the elevator.

They exited on the last floor and Nina had to be dragged to their room.

Yes, they shared a room. Yes, they were the only ones to share a room. 

Nina had said it would make them a better team if they lived with each other. Monet had jumped at the chance to be around the older girl. And it made nights like this easier, since they were going to the same place.

Nina hung off of Monet’s shoulders as the younger girl fiddled with the door. She felt her face flush from the proximity and her hands shake at the way Nina was swaying into her.

Monet finally got the door open and ushered Nina inside.

Nina proceeded to stumble to the bathroom.

Monet took a moment to compose herself. She let herself fall gracelessly onto the couch in the small living area. It was tough and uncomfortable, but Monet didn’t care.

It had been a long night. 

She and Nina had always had this… thing between them. They never talked about it. They just skirted around the edges of the line they had drawn.

They had met in a college history class. Nina had plopped herself right next to Monet on the first day and introduced herself as being Nina and being bad at history. Monet had laughed and had reassured her that if they stuck together, they could figure it out. History turned out to be Monet’s best subject - a fact Nina later admitted to taking advantage of - and her major.

They had stuck together throughout the class, spending long nights in the library or days in the local coffee shop “studying,”. 

Monet had met Brooke a month after she met Nina.

Nina and Brooke had been a package deal, and Monet was not about to say no to two new friends. 

Kameron had come along halfway through their second year and then their group had finally felt complete. They just all worked incredibly well together. It was almost scary how well they all fell into place.

But Brooke had always been a flirt, and Nina had always been in love with Brooke. It was an open secret between Kameron and Monet. And they had spent long nights discussing the future of their friendship if the two did start dating.

But as much as Brooke was a flirt, she was an untouchable flirt. Especially in college. She allowed girls to grace her bed for the night, then ignored their calls the next day. No one interested her. No one held her attention. No one could keep up with her.

Nina tried. Monet knew. They all knew how hard Nina tried to keep up. 

But Brooke didn’t look back or didn’t want to see the signs. Some nights, like tonight, Monet was sure she knew about Nina’s feelings. But other times, when she so blatantly ignored the girl’s comments, Monet wasn’t so sure.

Nina came out of the bathroom a minute later and promptly launched herself onto the bed.

Correction. 

Launched herself on to Monet’s bed.

Monet sighed and made her way over to Nina, who was getting comfy in the pile of blankets.

“Nina, honey, this is my bed.”

“I know,” Nina stated matter of factly. “Whydya think I’m lying here. Wanna sleep with you.”

Monet tried to stop the churning in her stomach. “Neens-”

“Just come lay down.” Nina patted the space beside her and gazed up at Monet with puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

How could Monet refuse?

The younger girl begrudgingly tucked herself under the covers, trying to keep as much space as possible between herself and Nina.

Nina noticed what she was doing and shimmied her way over until she was pressed right against Monet’s side. “You can’t get away that easy,” she teased.

“We shouldn’t-” Monet began to protest.

“We aren’t doing anything. We’re just sleeping. Now hush and go to sleep.”

Nina flipped off the bedside lamp and curled her arms around Monet’s waist, sighing happily.

Monet let a few minutes pass, each one feeling more and more pressing. The fan above them spun around and around. Monet felt it judging her silently.

“Nina, we need to talk about this,” Monet spoke to the ceiling fan.

“About what?” Nina’s voice was muffled by the pillows.

“This.”

“I’m too drunk for that conversation. We’ll have it in the morning.”

Monet sat up and reached over to flip the lamp back on. “No! No, you always do that. You say we’ll talk about it and we never do. No more! This isn’t fair” Monet put her face in her hands. “To either of us,” she added.

Nina grimaced, partially from the light, partially from the words.

“Fine.” Nina’s voice suddenly sounded composed, barely any traces of drunkenness in her speech, aside from the occasional slurring. “What do you want me to say?”

“Well what the hell was that tonight? Practically falling over yourself for Brooke?”

Nina’s serious demeanor changed all of a sudden to one of confusion and hurt. “Why does it matter?”

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you,” Monet deadpanned.

Nina sighed, long and heavy. “I was trying to make you jealous, okay? There. Are you happy?”

Monet’s brain stopped working for a second.

“I’m not even really that drunk, don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty tipsy, but not that tipsy.”

Nina looked over to see Monet’s face had gone stony.

“Don’t be mad.”

Monet was fuming. “Don’t be mad? Don’t be mad that you were trying to manipulate me? You could have just fucking asked! You didn’t have to fucking lie to me and try to make me upset. Congratulations you achieved your goal. I’m upset with you.”

“Honey, please don’t-”

Monet threw off the covers and shook off Nina’s hand when the older girl tried to keep her from leaving. “No! Neens, you can’t do shit like that to people. You know how I feel about you, and that’s a shitty way to play it.”

Monet walked to the door of the bedroom. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Wait! I-”

Monet shut the door.

* * *

Brooke was in her office, or her office for the day. They were in New York of all places, a second home to her, and here she was crammed up in a stuffy theatre office on a Saturday morning when all she wanted was to lay back down or visit the old bookstore she used to frequent. Instead of either of those things, she was looking blankly at the document in front of her. It was filled with numbers and figures that stood for ticket sales. Or was it merch sales? Or was it tour dates? Brooke had no clue.

Nina had said she wasn’t coming in today due to “personal reasons,” and Brooke hadn’t needed to ask for details as Monet had stormed into her office an hour ago accosting her about the other night.

“Did you know about it?”

“About what?”

“Nina’s fucking plan last night?”

Brooke looked at Monet a second. “Her one to make you jealous? No, but anyone could see that was what she was trying to do.”

“Fuck.”

“It worked didn’t it?”

“Of course it fucking worked, B. I love her, that bitch.”

“I know.” Brooke did know. Brooke had known for a while now. Brooke also knew that Monet still wasn’t getting it, as evidenced by her next words.

“Why would she do that?”

“Are you joking?” Brooke asked seriously.

“Why would I joke about this?”

Brooke sighed and sat down across from Monet, taking the younger girl’s hands in her own. “She loves you too.”

“No she doesn’t.”

Brooke couldn’t help her eye roll. “Do you actually, genuinely believe that Nina, our Nina, would do anything intentionally malicious to anyone?”

“No,” Monet admitted begrudgingly. 

“Then why the fuck do you think she did it? She loves you too, you idiot.”

Monet took a second to breathe. 

Brooke let her.

“God, what the hell do I do B? I never thought… I don’t know. I just never imagined a world where she loved me back.” Monet searched in Brooke’s eyes for something, anything. “What do I do, B?” She repeated.

“What do you want to do?”

“It isn’t that simple.” Monet took her hands from Brooke’s and stood up. She walked over to the far wall and breathed in and out slowly.

It was simple. Monet was just making it hard. Brooke had watched her and Nina dance around each other for years. Brooke had watched Monet make things harder for herself for years. It was almost like the young photographer thought she didn’t deserve to be happy. 

“Isn’t it? You love her. She loves you. That’s it.” 

Monet gave her a knowing look but bit her tongue and shook her head on a reply. Brooke ignored it for now. She also pointedly ignored how close the words seemed to hit home.

“Go get her. Or don’t. But don’t sit here. You’re making me anxious with your pacing and shit.”

Monet gave a halfhearted laugh. She pulled Brooke into a hug and left in a daze.

Brooke had sat back down and stared at the paper for a while after she left, trying to make sense of the gibberish that had been presented to her. Her fingers hovered over her phone. 

Just as she resolved to bite the bullet and call Nina, she realized she wasn’t alone in her (temporary) office. 

“Jesus Christ, Mateo! Don’t you knock?”

Vanjie just shrugged. 

Brooke stood up and made her way around so she was standing in front of Vanjie, leaning against the desk. She knew she looked good, and judging from Vanjie’s once over, she knew it too. “What do you need, Mateo?” Brooke kept up her cool tone, but it was tinged with something predatory. She didn’t even do it purposefully. Something about Vanjie just made her tick.

And that thing in the elevator the other night… Brooke didn’t have answers. She had just acted. Nothing and no one had ever frustrated her quite like Vanjie. The girl was quick witted and talented beyond measure. It was infuriating how easily she got under Brooke’s skin. Maybe that was why Brooke acted the way she did. Brooke wasn’t going to be the only one getting flustered.

“My name is Vanessa, by the way.”

“I find last names are better in the workplace. Keeps a sort of,” Brooke paused, “distance.”

“You don’t call Nina, Monet or Kam by their last names.”

“They’re different. They’re family. I trust them.”

“And you don’t trust me?”

“Why should I?”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

“That isn’t an answer, Mateo.” Brooke pointedly used her last name.

“Sure it is, mami. You just didn’t like it.” Vanessa winked.

Brooke groaned internally. God this girl was going to be the death of her.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Mateo?”

“Well, no. Not really, since I ain’t performing tonight.”

Brooke smirked - for once, she had the upper hand. “Oh, didn’t Alyssa tell you? You’re up first tonight.”

Vanessa’s smile could have lit up all of New York.

“Really?”

Brooke held her composure, when all she really wanted to do was fling herself at Vanessa. “Do I need to repeat myself?” she answered coolly.

Vanessa shook her head, curly hair flying out wildly, and she threw her arms around Brooke’s neck to pull her into a hug.

Brooke felt herself relax into the hug after a moment and let her hands move to rest on Vanessa’s hips - something she’d been wanting to do since the two women had met.

When Vanessa pulled back, she left her hands in place around Brooke’s neck. Brooke kept her hands where they were on Vanessa’s hips. 

She should have moved them. She should have pulled her hands back like they burned. _They didn’t. _ She should have pulled them away and walked somewhere else so she didn’t have to see Vanessa’s smile so close to her. _ She didn’t. _

Something passed over Vanessa’s features for a moment before she shook her head lightly and pulled her arms down. Now Brooke’s hands did burn. They sizzled and tingled at her fingertips and she knew the feeling will stop if she just _ held _ Vanessa again. _ She wouldn’t. _

“You won’t regret this, mami. I promise.”

“I better not,” Brooke responded, but her usual cocky tone was dampened somewhat. If Vanessa noticed, she didn’t let her face show it.

She disappeared out of the office, and Brooke was left staring after her yet again.

* * *

Blair looked up at the small knock on the door.

She didn’t need to. There was only one person it could be. 

Kameron stood in the doorway with a big bag of takeout and a nervous smile. Blair beckoned her inside and put down the drawing in her hands.

“Sorry to disturb when you’re working. But I thought I’d bring it to you while it’s still hot.”

“You ain’t disturbin’ me.” Blair reassured.

_ You could never disturb me, _ is what Blair wanted to say. She didn’t. She shouldn’t. At least not yet. Kameron had become an intrinsic part of Blair’s day. Almost overnight, the two had become thick as thieves. But there was still the usual tension and awkwardness of a new friend. They knew so much about each other, but small details still escaped them. 

For Blair, it was scary. Having someone so close to her, emotionally speaking. Yes, she had befriended all the rest of the company, but no one had ever tried so hard to befriend her. It was nice, being on the other end of things for once. It was uncommon, but welcome. 

Blair cleared off a bit of the table for the food. Kameron followed her train of thought diligently, like she knew what Blair was thinking.

Kameron sat the food down and began to unpack it, checking with Blair to make sure she got everything right. She did. Kameron always got everything right.

They ate in a comfortable silence, that was occasionally broken by one of them talking about an upcoming tour date or a strange encounter they had.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” Kameron leaned over to look at the discarded notebook. “Brianna again?” Blair shot her a look. “Sorry, sorry! Just-” Kameron sighed. “I don’t understand why you keep designing outfits for her that she’s never gonna wear.”

Blair got quiet all of a sudden and looked at her feet.

“Wait, Blair.” Kameron’s face said that she understood. “You don’t still design for her.” When Blair didn’t answer, Kameron persisted. “Do you?”

Blair couldn’t meet Kameron’s eyes. She hadn’t told anyone. No one knew, and she had wanted to keep it that way. So why, oh why, did she let Kameron find out?

“It really ain’t that big a deal, Kameron. Honest.”

Kameron just looked at her with sad eyes. It wasn’t pity, it was just… sad. 

“Of course it is.” The hurt on Blair’s face must have been clear, because Kameron stood up and pulled her up into a hug. 

Blair let the tears fall. Let go of the strong wall she was trying to put up. Kameron cared. In a way no one else in her life had. She wanted what was best for Blair, wanted to see her succeed. 

Blair let herself be led to the couch in the tiny excuse for a costume room and manhandled until her head was under Kameron’s chin and she was nestled right up next to Kameron, practically in her lap. Kameron held her close, whispered soothingly, as Blair continued to cry.

She hadn’t cried since the breakup. Hadn’t let herself. She felt stupid and foolish, sure. She had let those feelings come. But the ones of sadness and heartbreak, she never let herself feel. Those were feelings for later. 

Blair supposed now, wrapped up in the arms of a girl who she barely knew, was later.

“It won’t make her love you again.” Kameron’s voice was soft, but solid, like her.

“I know.” Blair said between sniffles.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” Blair paused. “And no.” She sighed. “I know, I do. But I guess I was just hopin’…”

“She’d wake up and realize she made a horrible mistake?” Kameron said, leaning back a bit to wipe a few tears from Blair’s cheek.

“Or she’d love me again. I dunno. It’s stupid I know.” Blair moved to get up and put space between them, it felt like too much. It felt like she was a burden. It felt like she was dumping all her problems on Kameron, again.

She hated feeling helpless, always had. But maybe it was in her DNA that she needed someone, something to lean on. 

Kameron wouldn’t let her get away that easily. “Lemme go, Kameron.”

“Never.” She held onto Blair and spoke softly. “Blair, it’s not stupid. It’s sweet and it’s kind and it’s everything I’ve learned to love about you.” Blair stopped struggling. “You aren’t stupid. You gotta stop saying that because it isn’t true. You’re kind and gentle and you have so much love in your heart to give. Any girl would be beyond blessed to be on the receiving end of all of that. Any girl would be beyond lucky to have you.”

Blair blushed at this. Kameron always seemed to make her blush.

“Right now, your feelings may be a bit… misguided.” Blair gave a light chuckle at that. “But it’s okay. You aren’t stupid for loving someone.”

Blair knew this. She knew this thing wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t right. But hearing someone else say it. She finally felt the burden lift. She talked a big talk, saying she was focusing on herself, when in reality she knew she couldn’t fully focus on herself while she was still wrapped up in feelings for Brianna. 

She had been holding a torch for Brianna, stupidly hoping that one day it would matter. It wouldn’t. And now she knew for sure.

Kameron held her close until the tears stopped.

Blair suddenly realized how strange this was. She was sitting in the middle of her couch crying about a girl she had dated nearly two years ago to another girl who she may be catching feelings for.

Blair stood up.

Kameron let her this time.

Blair wiped her now dry face and had the decency to blush at her behavior.

“Thanks, Kameron,” she said quietly.

“Anytime, angel.”


	5. The Oddball and The Stage Manager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nina is still reeling from her fuck up with Monet, Yvie’s joints are bad but Scarlet loves her anyway, Trixie’s sleep sechdule is ruined, and Brooke and Kameron reflect on their past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meggie once again is an angel on this earth. Thank you my love for beta-ing this! You are the sweetest! <3

Nina West was not good at this type of thing.

She was emotional as hell, sure. But explaining those emotions, dealing with them, not so much. She had always been a bit repressed. Her family had been uber-religious growing up, so being gay was kind of a no-go in her household. She went to church, sang the songs, did what she was supposed to do. Church had been a safe space for so long. 

She didn’t have the usual falling out with religion that most people in her situation had. In fact, she had maybe leaned into it too much following the months of her coming out. 

Luckily she had gotten through that stage pretty quickly.

She still had faith, still kept a Bible in her bedside table. Still sang the hymns to calm her nerves. Her faith hadn’t waned, it had just changed. She figured if all the other Christians could pick and choose passages to live by, Nina could too.

She had chosen to live by loving others as best she could.

But clearly she had messed this up somehow, because Monet wasn’t talking to her. 

Monet was sitting in the back of the tour bus with Kameron and Blair talking quietly. Brooke was a row in front of them, turning around every now and then to say something.

Nina sat near the front with Vanessa and Dela, who were reassuring her that everything was going to be just fine. Well, assuring her as best they knew how to.

“I think I really fucked up guys.”

“No offense, chica, but you kinda did.”

“Vanjie!”

“Sorry! I just...” Vanessa sighed. “You know Monet, you had to know this coulda happened.”

“I did, I just… I just wanted it to be like the movies, you know? Where the main character makes the love interest jealous and that’s what prompts them to realize they’re in love.” 

Vanessa nodded understandingly.

Dela did not. “Wait, you don’t understand why she’s mad, do you?”

“I was manipulative and selfish. I was trying to force her to make a move when she wasn’t ready.”

“Yes, and what else?” 

Nina drew a blank.

Dela sighed. “She cares for you, I don’t know if she loves you, but she cares for you. You doing that, lying to her, well, it must have felt like you were dangling her feelings in front of her. Like you knew she had feelings for you and you were saying she couldn’t have you.”

“But she knows how I feel.”

“Does she? Cause if she did, wouldn’t you think she’d be sitting up here with you.”

Dela was right.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

* * *

Yvie had always been strange. She didn’t mind that no one understood her. Couldn’t be bothered to care about their petty insults that reflected their own issues rather than hers. She didn’t mind that she was alone most of her life. People found her confrontational and erratic. She found herself brave and correct - most of the time. 

Yvie was just herself.

She didn’t mind the others. 

But sometimes, she did. 

When they undermined her work or attacked her art. She knew she was strange and different and that scared people. And most of the time it didn’t bother her.

But Vanjie- Vanessa rather, had hit her where it hurt. Had attacked her art not because it was weird but because she couldn’t do it if it weren’t. Vanessa had said Yvie didn’t try to dance in any particular style because she couldn’t adhere to one. She was too sporadic, too ‘out there.’ She could never make it big dancing the way she did.

They both knew it wasn’t true, but it still stung.

Yvie had called her unlovable.

A low blow perhaps, but she was angry and sad.

Luckily they had Scarlet. The most forgiving woman in the world. She had brought them together. 

The handshake had been a formality at first. The truce a false one until they decided to blow up at each other again.

Or at least, it had been.

Both Yvie and Vanessa were shocked when their mutual fake kindness turned into genuine friendship. Scarlet had smiled knowingly but held off making comments.

Yvie and Vanessa had gotten so close in fact that they sometimes did their pre-show together. They would sit in someone’s dressing room, usually Yvie’s, and laugh and talk and be late for their call times.

It was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Yvie felt lucky to have a friend. Not that she hadn’t gotten along with the other girls, but Vanessa was different. She was so much like Yvie. They got each other.

“You did a great job the other night. I swear I’ve never seen a crowd that hyped for a new girl.”

“Thanks. You didn’t look so bad yourself.” Vanessa winked.

Yvie laughed. “Thanks, sis.”

Yvie slid off her chair onto the floor to stretch. She began her usual routine of popping some of her joints, which sent Vanessa into a fit. “I know you can’t help it, but it’s so gross.”

Yvie was pulling her leg up and behind her head when she felt a sudden shooting pain.

It wasn’t the usual pain either, it was a pain that meant something was wrong. 

When she tried to lower her leg back down, she couldn’t help but cry out. 

Vanessa looked up from her phone, worry etched into her frown lines. “Yvie, what happened.”

“Fuck, fuck, shit. My hip it just- FUCK.”

Vanessa rushed over to Yvie’s side. “What do you need me to do? Call an ambulance? Get an ice pack? You need Scarlet?”

“No!” Yvie answered too quickly. Vanessa’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t tell Scar, it’s fine, just let me- will you help me up?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Vanessa held out her hands and planted her feet firmly as Yvie clambered up. As soon as she stood upright, she nearly fell over into Vanessa’s arms. “Let’s get you to the couch.”

Yvie nodded and winced as she was practically dragged over to the plush seat in the dressing room.

“Can you- can you get me water?” Yvie’s voice had taken on a different tone. It was soft and pained, rather than her usual sarcastic droll.

Vanessa obliged. 

She watched Yvie down the bottle in seconds.

Vanessa didn’t know what to do; if she should leave, if she should stay and talk, if she should whisper soothingly into Yvie’s ear.

Vanessa guessed the younger girl probably wouldn’t have appreciated the last one, but she didn’t know.

Yvie saw the emotions play out on Vanessa’s face.

“Sorry, just, sometimes-”

Vanessa cut her off. “You don’t gotta explain nothin’. I get it.”

Yvie kept talking; it must have been the pain. She felt she needed to explain herself. “I just don’t like telling Scar. She worries about me.”

Vanessa nodded. “Everybody sees how much she cares. You got a really great girl.”

“I know.” But Yvie could hear the doubt in her own voice.

* * *

Scarlet had always been adored by men and women alike. She was naturally charming. And naturally distant. 

Scarlet was untouchable. Above it all. The princess in the tower, surrounded by thorns and knives and a dragon. She had suitors left and right throwing themselves at her. She never paid them any mind. One drunken night she had confessed to Yvie. 

“You wanna know why everyone is in love with me?”

“Not really, but that’s never stopped you before.”

Scarlet ignored her and plowed ahead, counting off her fingers. “I’m quick-witted. I’m intelligent. I’m mysterious.” She paused. “And no one will ever have me.”

“I don’t know if I agree with the first two, but go off, sis.”

Scarlet tried to punch Yvie in the arm, but Yvie caught her fist before she could. The younger girl twisted her wrist, and managed to get Scarlet on her back with her hand behind it. Yvie fell on top of her, breathing heavily.

The mood in the room shifted. 

The air was like electricity, snapping and sparking everywhere Scarlet’s eyes touched.

“I’m starting to not agree with the last one either,” Yvie whispered.

“Yves-” Scarlet went to protest, or to encourage, or to… she didn’t know. Still didn’t know what she was trying to communicate.

Yvie kissed her.

Scarlet kissed back.

And suddenly the princess in the tower was back on the ground.

* * *

Ever since that night at the bar (meeting Katya), Trixie hadn’t put her phone down. She had even purchased an unlimited data plan she was using it so much.

Katya texted her sporadically. She blamed it on the time difference and her general scatter-brained nature. 

Trixie would wake up from her four hours of sleep to twenty or so messages about Katya’s opinion on the oil crisis, or food insecurity, or even how good Trixie’s ass looked.

Having conversations with her was like being in fifty car crashes in a row. Her whiplash was severe.

But she was getting better at it. The banter.

Trixie had never really felt compelled to share her funny comments, content to sit back and be the quiet one - well, the other quiet one - Blair had first dibs on being the most silent of the cast and crew. But lately Trixie had been talking more, she was more bubbly, more open and energetic. 

Her phone buzzed.

It was 5 a.m. and she had stayed awake nearly all night to hear from Katya. She felt stupid. It was stupid to be so involved with this girl she had known for less than an hour.

But she was.

So here she was, at 5 a.m. waiting for a text she knew she would get from a girl she met in a bar.

If she thought about it too much, it was sad. So she didn’t think about it.

She let herself be happy and giggly. She let herself live in the fantasy for just a little longer. Who knew how long it would take Katya to get bored of her. How long until she realized how normal and average and un-special Trixie was.

Her phone buzzed again.

K: What are your opinions on baby seals?

K: don’t answer that.

K: you should be asleep.

K: i’ll just say

K: they are a nuisance to the great waters of the world

K: a source you ask for? my source is my eyes.

Twenty minutes later...

K: A seal stole my sandwich.

K: i’m guessing he was a baby by the size

K: Also, I’m guessing he was a he because he stole my sandwich.

K: and men are dogs

K: or in this case

K: seals

Trixie chuckled to herself lightly, the screen on her phone illuminated her face. She felt that stupid silly rush again.

She let it wash over her.

Content to let herself be happy for now.

* * *

“Why the FUCK did I have to hear from Blair of all people that you aren’t performing tonight? Yves, what the fuck?”

“Baby, I-”

“No, no. Don’t ‘baby’ me.” Scarlet seemed to suddenly realize her girlfriend's position. Yvie was lying on an ice pack sitting at what looked to be an uncomfortable angle. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?” Scarlet’s tone was suddenly softer.

Yvie waved her hand dismissively. “It’s nothing, really, the doctor said-”

“Doctor! You had to see a doctor?”

“It really isn’t-”

“Yves, why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you would act like this okay? There. Are you happy?” Yvie spat out.

“Act like what? Act like I care about you? God forbid I care about you! Is that it? Oh look at me I’m Yvie and no one can ever love me.”

“Scarlet.” Yvie tried to sound firm, but her voice cracked.

“No, you don’t get to talk right now.” Scarlet breathed in and out. “You are just gonna have to suck it up. I love you, you stupid asshole. I love you so fucking much my chest hurts.” Scarlet looked down at her hands. “I never thought… I never thought I’d love anybody. And here you are. Making everyday better just cause you exist.”

“Baby-”

A sharp look from Scarlet cut Yvie off again.

“I care about you. No matter how fucked up your joints are. You can’t get rid of me. I’m in it for the long run, Yves.”

Yvie nodded.

“So you can’t just not tell me these things. Yes, I worry about you, but it’s because I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

Yvie nodded again. “Can I talk now?”

Scarlet let a small smile slip.

“I love you, too.”

“And?” Scarlet prompted, teasing smile on her face.

“And I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“And?”

Yvie rolled her eyes.

“And you are an angel on earth and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“That’s more like it.”

* * *

Brooke and Kameron sat in the audience of the theatre.

They were in Toronto, Brooke’s home away from home. 

Right after college she had moved out here to pursue her passion. She joined an up and coming ballet troupe. She had put in the hours, done the work, but something was still missing.

She was living her dream… but it didn’t feel right anymore. It didn’t even feel like her dream.

She stayed for a year. 

She would walk Hospital Row at two in the morning, on legs that were begging her to sit down. She would walk and walk and walk until she physically couldn’t anymore. She would sit on the street corner with a water bottle and a longing in her chest for more. Her brain kept coming back to the night in Nina’s living room. A dance company of her own. Something the world had never seen before. The idea made her chest fill and her lungs empty. 

Everyday she wore down just a bit more. 

But then she got a call one night.

It was her new dream calling.

Well, it was technically Kameron that was calling, too out of breath from excitement to fully explain what she was doing, but Brooke understood. It was happening. This stupid silly drunken plan was taking shape. She said she couldn’t do it without Brooke, and Brooke, heaven help her, was just crazy and young enough to catch the next flight home.

She and Kameron spent the next months throwing their sleep schedule out the window. They stayed up and danced and joked and ate ramen noodles on a mattress on the floor. And they laughed and worked and dodged bill collectors. 

And they did it together.

And they made it.

By some miracle they made it.

Brooke didn’t believe it.

Still sometimes didn’t believe it.

Kameron pinched her arm lightly, pulling her out of her head for a moment. “Earth to B, come in B.”

“Ow, Kam.”

Kameron smiled. “Whatcha thinkin bout?”

“This,” Brooke said vaguely. She motioned to the stage, the seats, themselves. She turned to Kameron, trying to convey how thankful she was, how blessed she felt. “We did it. We really did this.”

Kameron smiled wider. “We really did.”

Brooke pulled her into a hug. It was awkward with how the seats were arranged but neither girl minded.

Kameron pulled back and looked away from Brooke, her eyes falling, as they always did, to the middle of the stage. 

Brooke knew what she was thinking. After all these years she knew. 

“I always thought we’d do it together though. You know? You and me. Tearing up the world with our troupe of dancers.”

Kameron’s smile vanished and she couldn’t look at Brooke. “B, you know I can’t.”

Brooke sighed. She had hoped, maybe stupidly, that Kameron would finally open up a bit. “Kam, you can’t keep letting what happened keep you from this.” Brooke motioned to the stage again. “I know you miss it.”

“Of course I miss it. But…”

“But what?”

“What if I’m not good at it anymore?”

Brooke gave her a doubtful look. “That’s not true. You know it isn’t true. What are you so scared of?”

Kameron stopped fidgeting with her hands and sighed. “I’m scared I’ll fucking love it. I’m scared if I do it again I won’t be able to stop. I’m scared it will happen again.”

Brooke softened her voice. “Kam, there was a tech issue. That stage light…”

“It shattered my foot, B.”

“I know, Kam, I know. But you-”

“I had a brain bleed from the fall.”

“Kam, I-”

“No, B. I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to help. But you’ll never understand what I went through.”

“I was beside you the whole time. I know what you went through.”

Kameron shook her head. “You don’t get it. You can’t. I couldn’t dance for a year! Can you even comprehend that?”

Brooke was quiet. “No.” Because she couldn’t comprehend it. Couldn’t imagine giving it up, not now, not ever. It was the only thing that was worth getting out of bed in the morning. It was her reason for being on this earth. She knew that for a fact.

She couldn’t imagine life without it.

She knows Kameron felt the same.

“No, you can’t.” Kameron spoke softly.

A silence fell between them.

“I’m sorry Kam.”

“Me too, B.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a shorter chapter! Sorry! I've been a bit busy with school starting!


	6. The Romantic and The Ballerina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up between Brooke and Vanessa, Nina and Monet finally talk, and Trixie feels like she is in a movie (weird action sci-fi thriller) when she's with Katya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meggie is once again, the light of my life. Thank you so much, my love, for dealing with me and having as much fun with the story as I am.
> 
> Also, this chapter opens with smut! You have been warned!

This was a bad idea.

Brooke knew this was a bad idea. And yet here she was.

In an office in some random city in the U.S. with her newest star dancer looking at her like she was going to eat her.

“C’mon, _ mamí_. I know you want me.”

“Mateo, I don’t have time for this-”

Vanessa dropped her jacket, leaving her standing in her thigh-high boots, black lace stockings, the tightest leather skirt Brooke had ever seen, and a crimson red bra.

Brooke absolutely had time for that.

For all of that.

_ Fuck. _

Brooke stood up from the desk to walk forward slowly. Predatorily. She looked into Vanessa’s eyes for confirmation before running her hands slowly up and down Vanessa’s exposed arms.

This was a bad idea.

The way Vanessa nearly shuddered at the contact was further proof of this.

Brooke tried to hold back a comment, bit her tongue at the words threatening to escape.

Vanessa took this as a challenge because of course, she did.

“If I’d have known it was this easy to get your hands on me, I woulda worn this a lot sooner.”

Brooke rolled her eyes, throwing her impassiveness out the window. “Shut up, Mateo.”

Vanessa wrapped her arms around Brooke’s neck, bringing the two even closer. “Make me, mamí,” she whispered almost against Brooke’s lips.

Brooke stepped back, drawing out the tension _ that_ much more. It was almost addicting, this thing between them, this dancing around each other. Brooke almost hated to see it go. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” 

“Then show me,” Vanessa said walking closer.

Brooke smirked.

She sat down at the desk and beckoned Vanessa closer with a curled finger. Before the younger girl could blink, she was being pulled by a firm hand forward. She gave a small squeak and landed gracelessly in Brooke’s lap.

Brooke chuckled darkly at Vanessa’s sharp inhale as she pressed the palm of her hand firmly against Vanessa pussy through her underwear.

“So responsive, baby girl. I’m gonna have _so_ much fun playing with you.”

Vanessa whimpered at the words and she tried to grind down on Brooke’s hand. 

Brooke took her hand away and tsked. “No, none of that now. Use your words, Mateo.”

“Vanessa.”

“What?” Brooke grabbed the younger girl's hips to pull her closer, causing Vanessa to grind down on Brooke’s leg.

“Call me Vanessa,” the younger girl gasped out. “Please,” she added breathlessly.

Brooke smirked again. “You think we’re playing by your rules?”

Vanessa shook her head quickly at Brooke’s tone, it left no room for debate of who was in charge. 

Brooke trailed her fingers back down between Vanessa’s legs to move aside her soaked underwear. “My rules,” she said lowly.

“Your rules, your rules, please touch me, _ mamí_.”

Brooke took her time for a little bit longer, trailing her finger up and down Vanessa’s slit, gathering the pooling wetness with the tip of her finger. 

When Vanessa was practically vibrating with need, rocking her hips back and forth on the air and whispering little pleas, Brooke slid one finger inside her. 

“More, more, please, _ mamí_,” Vanessa whined immediately. 

Brooke smirked and added another finger. “So polite now. If I’d have known all it took was my fingers inside you to make you polite, I would have done this a long time ago.”

Vanessa’s face and chest were flushed as red as her bra, but she was still trying to keep up her bratty nature. “Shut up and fuck me.”

Brooke’s smile faded and she removed her fingers and proceeded to place them in Vanessa’s already open mouth. 

“Watch your mouth, baby. Wouldn’t want you gettin’ the wrong idea of who’s in charge here,” Brooke said dangerously.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, please.” Vanessa's words were muffled with Brooke’s fingers still in her mouth. 

“I don’t know, you don’t seem very sorry.”

With no further prompting, Vanessa got off Brooke’s lap and fell to her knees, pulling down Brooke’s pants and underwear like a woman on a mission.

And Brooke would be lying if she said she hadn’t imagined this exact scenario several times over the past few months. 

“Let me make it up to you, _ mamí_,” Vanessa said, making direct eye contact with Brooke as she licked a stripe up her cunt.

_ God, reality was so much better than any fantasy. _

“Make it good, and then we’ll see if I feel like letting you come tonight.”

Vanessa did make it good. She licked and sucked and ate Brooke out better than anybody else ever had. 

Brooke came with Vanessa’s name - her real name - on her lips. 

“Fuck, Vanessa.”

After Brooke’s body stopped shaking from the aftershocks, Vanessa came up for a kiss, their first real one. Her mouth was covered with Brooke and she was panting and her hair was a mess. 

Brooke wouldn’t have it any other way.

Brooke pulled the younger girl back into her lap. She didn’t tease this time, she slipped three fingers into Vanessa with no preamble and started fucking in and out of her rapidly, using her thumb to stimulate her clit in time with her fingers.

Vanessa was gasping and moaning and generally being her loud self, but Brooke didn’t mind. She relished in her power over the younger woman. Vanessa, the big bad untouchable force of nature, was putty in Brooke’s hands. Gasping and moaning and so fucking _ sensitive_.

Brooke was in heaven. 

“You gonna come for me, baby girl?”

“Mhmm.”

“Words, Nessa.”  
‘  
"_Mamí_, I’m gonna come, please don’t stop, please.”

“Such a good girl.”

Vanessa came with a silent scream. 

Brooke pumped her fingers in and out slowly until Vanessa winced from the sensitivity.

Vanessa finally had enough feeling in her legs to stand up, and when she looked back down at Brooke, her eyes spoke a thousand words.

This was a very bad idea.

* * *

Monet was fuming.

She and Nina were sharing a room again.

Monet hadn’t thought to look before now, too busy gossiping with Violet and a silent Blair to check the room assignments.

But now she had, and she was pissed.

She got the key from the front desk at the hotel, attempting to avoid having to speak or ask Nina for anything.

She opened the door to the room and groaned out loud at the sight before her. 

There was only one bed. One, giant, king-sized bed that looked so damn comfy Monet’s muscles nearly relaxed at how good it looked.

Nearly.

Nearly because Nina was sitting upright in the middle of it, looking at her with eyes that begged her to stay.

“So, I guess I’ll go sleep in Kam’s room then” Monet mumbled, heading right back out the door she had just come through.

“No, wait, ‘Net.” 

For whatever reason, Monet stopped. Maybe it was the desperation in Nina’s voice. Maybe it was how comfy the bed looked. Maybe it was because she loved Nina.

“Talk to me, please.”

Monet sighed. “What do you want me to say? ‘Hey, it’s totally fine that you used my feelings to make a fool out of me in front of our friends?’ No fuckin’ way. I didn’t RSVP to your fuckin’ pity party.”

Nina’s face suddenly lit up with understanding. “Wait, wait, wait. You think I don’t love you back?”

Monet looked at her hard, heart pounding out of her chest. Head spinning around and around. She knew Nina loved her. Brooke had said as much. But Monet had been truthful in that conversation too, none of this was as simple as it should be. 

“Honey, come here.” When Monet didn’t move, Nina spoke again, firmer this time. “Just fucking do it.”

Monet relented and sat on the bed, putting as much space between them as possible.

Nina wasn’t having any of that though and moved so she was sitting cross-legged right next to Monet. She grabbed Monet’s hands and made the younger girl look at her.

“I wear my emotions on my sleeve. I don’t always feel the need to verbalize them ‘cause I think everyone knows by looking at me.” Nina smiled. “I thought I made it clear that I loved you. I see now that I didn’t.” Nina looked down at her hands, searching for the right words. “I’m sorry for everything the other night. That was wrong of me.” Nina finally looked up, locking their eyes for the first time in weeks. “I’m so so so sorry, ‘Net.”

Monet smiled softly. She knew Nina loved her, but it was different hearing it from the woman herself. Monet looked down at their hands and let her other hand come to trace the spaces where their fingers interlocked. “I love you, Neens. I have since freshman year. But you were always…”

“Chasing after Brooke?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah.” Nina echoed joylessly. “You should’ve told me though.”

“I loved you so much- I still love you so much,” Monet corrected. “But I thought you were always gonna belong to someone else. So I didn’t push it.”

“And I shouldn’t have pushed you to push it.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

Nina sighed. “I love you, ‘Net. I have for a lot longer than I think I even realized. I didn’t mean to hurt you, and I understand if you still want to lea-”

Monet shut her up with a kiss. 

It was wet and messy and not like anything either of them had imagined. It was awkward and weird… but then it wasn’t.

Then it was soft and sweet and kind. Their teeth still clacked together and their mouths were out of synch at first, but they figured it out. 

It was… perfectly imperfect. 

Much like them. 

When they finally pulled away, Monet narrowed her eyes, “Don’t ever pull that shit again, you hear me? I will throw down with anyone who comes near my woman.”

Nina laughed, then gave a huge goofy smile. 

“What?”

“Your woman. I’m your woman.”

“You bet your gorgeous ass you are. And I ain’t never letting you go.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

* * *

Trixie and her fellow dancers bowed to the cheering crowd. 

The applause was electrifying. And their audience was growing every day. People were coming from all over to see them, to see them dance. It was still crazy that people even knew her name let alone were fans of her.

Trixie couldn’t fight the glowing smile as she made her way off the stage, hand in hand with Violet.

The young arial artist had taken a liking to Trixie sometime last year. The two had barely ever talked before that fateful night - well, Violet had never talked to Trixie before. They had been drunk off their asses and this was back in the days where they weren’t so well received by audiences, and Brooke and Nina were still racking up debt to keep the place open. 

Trixie and Violet had drunkenly stumbled back to the studio on Violet’s insistence that Trixie plays her a song on that guitar she always had with her. 

Trixie, in her drunkenness, had agreed that breaking into the abandoned studio at 4 a.m. with a hairpin and a piece of gum was a great idea.

They had tried for all of about twenty minutes until they realized that the lock wasn’t coming off. 

They sat on the street corner and Violet complained about anything her eyes touched. The ground was too cold, the air was too hot, there was dirt on her shoes. 

Trixie placated her by saying - slurring - that she could sing without the guitar.

Violet had perked up at this.

Trixie didn’t sing for many people. It was… very personal for her. It was something that was a sign of trust. She had explained this to Violet who waved her hand and told her to shut up and just sing already.

Trixie did.

_ Nobody tells you _

_ How you should feel_

_ When dreams have been given_

_ And nothing feels real_

_ The chance is too daunting_

_ The path isn’t clear_

_ But somehow I love you_

_ My beautiful fear_

It was a song she wrote in between rehearsals at the studio they were currently leaning against. It was about… a lot of things. Mostly about her own journey with dance and how even though she had only been there a month, she knew that To New Hytes Dance Company was the beginning of something great. 

She explained this all to Violet who hadn’t spoken in a while - which was unusual. 

Violet looked at her a long moment afterward, something strangely human passed over the usual stone-cold bitch’s face. She had looked, moved? Touched? Those words were too strong. She seemed… smaller. 

Somehow.

From that day on, Violet had seemed to be more open with Trixie, more… small.

They walked hand in hand now to the dressing room. 

Upon turning the handle, Trixie was immediately met with a chorus of screams of her name.

She glanced around the room to figure out what the actual fuck was going on when her eyes fell upon the elephant in the room.

Piled up on Trixie’s makeup station, nearly as high as the ceiling, was every type of flower Trixie had ever seen, as well as a few she hadn’t seen. It was the biggest bouquet of flowers she had ever seen in her life. She didn’t even know people could sell that many at one time.

“T, what the fuck is all this?”

“Trixie’s got an admirer,” A’keria called from over the mountain of flowers.

Trixie dropped Violet’s hand and rushed over to the flower mountain, trying to keep from messing any of them up, while looking for a card.

She found it placed atop the roses. 

_ A beautiful thing like you deserves beautiful things. _

_ You are an amazing dancer. _

_ P.S. Meet me in the side alley of the theatre as soon as you can._

_ P.P.S I wanna show you something. _

_ P.P.P.S. That sounded sexual and that’s not what I meant. _

_ P.P.P.P.S. unless…._

Trixie giggled to herself at Katya’s message. Her hyperactive lover didn’t even sign her name, but Trixie knew it was her. 

“Who is it, Trix?” Dela called.

“No one, don’t worry about it.”

“No, c’mon you gotta tell us!” A’keria prompted. 

“Back off hoes, she’s clearly sensitive about it,” Vanjie cut in. “Besides, it’s that Russian chick from the bar a few weeks back.” She said knowingly with a salacious wink at Trixie. 

A chorus of yelling erupted again, and Vanjie just threw her head back with a laugh. Trixie flipped her the middle finger and wasted no time changing into her normal clothes. 

She was out of the side door of the theatre before she could think too hard about Violet’s face as she left.

Katya was leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. She was dressed in her usual style of “old-lady went to a thrift store and fell on a rack but make it sexy.”

Katya smiled with her teeth when Trixie came sumbling out. She suddenly felt a bit underdressed with just her yoga pants and a baggy sweatshirt.

Katya didn’t seem to mind as she traipsed slowly up to Trixie, planting a kiss to her full lips without so much as a warning. “You were wonderful tonight. Really amazing. _ Velikolepnyy. _”

“Uh, thanks. Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what on earth are you doing here?”

“Honestly I didn’t even realize you guys were here. I was just coming out here to the middle of bumfuck nowhere to see the sights. You know, the corn and the grass,” Katya deadpanned. “I came to see you, _ myshka. _”

“Oh, well, here I am.” Trixie stumbled over her words a bit, blushing at how nervous she sounded.

“Here you are,” Katya echoed.

Katya looked at her for a moment, the longer she stared the more exposed Trixie felt. Although she always felt exposed talking to Katya. The older woman was so… worldly, so… strange. Strange in a way that was compelling and scary. 

Suddenly, Katya broke the silence with a clap of her hands, jolting Trixie. “We should hurry, we might miss it!”

“Miss what?”

Katya turned to Trixie with a mischievous glint in her eye. “How do you feel about going on an adventure?”

“It’s nearly one in the morning, what adventure could we possibly be going on?”

“Well if I told you, it wouldn’t be an adventure now would it?” Before Trixie could speak, Katya answered her own question. “No! Now let’s go!”

Katya motioned for Trixie to follow her down the alley and out to a shiny red sports car. It was one of the ones Trixie couldn’t name off the top of her head, but it was one of the nice ones. Like a hundred thousand dollar nice.

Trixie’s door opened for her and a neat little package with a bow greeted her. “What-”

“Trust me, _ myshka_. You are going to want to change.”

Trixie sat down and unwrapped the loose bow revealing a very gorgeous, very expensive, very revealing, very red dress.

She looked over at Katya who shot her a wink before flooring the gas.

Katya drove like she did everything else, with style and no regard to social customs. 

She ran at least seven red lights in only three blocks, which Trixie was still trying to figure out how that was even possible when they came to a sudden stop. 

“You can change in the bathroom here; I’ll get us some food.”

Trixie did as she was bid and only got a glance of the ‘fresh cookies’ sign before she was being ushered inside. She changed quickly in the small bathroom that she was becoming more and more sure was only for employees. She took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. 

She looked good. 

Like really good. 

Katya had somehow managed to get a dress that fit her rather large chest and hips while also caressing her torso and legs. It was almost like it was custom made.

Trixie ran her fingers through her hair to try and get out some of the knots, but it was pointless. 

She exited the bathroom to see Katya completely changed into a form-fitting long black dress and a giant box of cookies in her arms. Trixie opened her mouth to ask ‘how’ or ‘why’ or ‘what the actual fuck’ but Katya cut her off again, saying that they had to get going.

Trixie followed her back into the car, and they sped off again onto the city streets. Katya downed three cookies in the span of the five minutes it took to get to their second destination.

They came to a stop outside a dark and old looking building. Katya got out of the car and held her arm out for Trixie to grab onto.

They walked up to the side of the abandoned building and Katya wrapped on the metal door.

A moment later the door was opened ever so slightly, and a harsh male voice spoke in some language Trixie couldn’t make out.

_ “Chto heta?” _

_ “Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova. Upuscim.” _

_ “Nas?” _

_ “U mianie josć hosć.” _

The door shut and opened a second later. Katya flashed a nervous-looking Trixie a wink.

They entered and Trixie was suddenly overwhelmed with the sights and sounds that accosted her senses.

It was a jazz club. 

Plain and simple. An underground jazz club in the middle of nowhere U.S.A. There were men onstage wailing away on saxophones and people milling about in their best evening wear. Some were dancing, some were chatting (in more languages that Trixie had never heard), some were drinking at the bar. 

The walls were covered in gorgeous artwork that must have cost thousands of dollars each. There were chandeliers throughout the club, adding even more elegance to the already opulent space.

Katya let her take it in for a moment before she pulled Trixie with a gentle hand toward the dance floor.

Trixie had no time to protest as she was suddenly being swayed and pulled this way and that in time with the music. Katya was laughing like a maniac, filling the otherwise peaceful atmosphere with her high-pitched shrieking. Trixie laughed at her. Laughed at the situation. Laughed because she didn’t know what else to do.

She was dancing in an underground jazz club in the middle of nowhere with a Russian girl she met at a bar who she was beginning to think was some sort of mafioso and laughing like a maniac.

The situation was not anything like she had expected and also exactly what she needed.

“What did that guy ask you? And what language was that?”

“He just asked for my name in Belarusian.”

Trixie laughed; that would be her answer. “Say it for me again. Your name.”

Katya gave her a strange look but repeated herself. “Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova.”

“Yekaterina, I like that.”

Katya laughed. 

“What?”

“Your pronunciation, _ myshka_. It is so bad.”

“Well forgive me for not growing up speaking every random language under the sun!”

“Hey, don’t blame me! My mother put me in classes when I was three. I had no choice!”

“Your mother put you in language classes at three?”

“Parenting… it is different over there.” Katya’s accent was back, and she wasn’t looking into Trixie’s eyes anymore.

“Well, it sounds really interesting. I’d love to visit someday.”

_ “Mozhet byt', odnazhdy ya voz'mu tebya.” _

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

Trixie let it go for now and let herself relax. The space was beautiful. The music was beautiful. Katya was beautiful.

Everything was perfect. 

Katya dropped Trixie off several hours later with the whole load of cookies and a promise to see her soon.

Trixie practically floated to her room.

She fell asleep with jazz music ringing in her ears.

* * *

“Vanessa, I swear to god if you don’t turn the right way this time I will personally- What?”

Vanessa had a shit-eating grin on her face.

You could hear a pin drop the theatre was so quiet. The rest of the dancers were looking at Brooke with a mixture of shock, and Nina, with a smirk. 

_ Shit. _

“Take five.”

Brooke couldn’t get off the stage fast enough. She avoided Alyssa’s questioning look and wandered around the unfamiliar backstage of the theatre until she found herself thoroughly lost in the costumes - not theirs - and old stage equipment. 

She lets herself take a deep breath in and out.

“There you are, Brooke.”

Great, just fucking great. It was Vanessa. It was Vanessa peering up at her with a smirk and shorts that were way too tight and her hair in an intricate braid with a few curls falling in her face. 

Brooke swore she’d never seen anyone more beautiful.

But she couldn’t think about that right now. Couldn’t think about how just last night she had this gorgeous, amazing girl in her arms. Couldn’t think about how she let Vanessa crash in her hotel room and how she ducked out - of her own room - at an ungodly hour of the morning to go “rehearse.”

She couldn’t think about that now. 

She had to be the boss. Had to be the stone-cold ballerina she had been brought up to be. Focused on the company. Focused on perfection. Focused on her future. 

She couldn’t let Vanessa be anything more than a mistake.

“You can’t call me that. I’m your boss.” 

Perhaps Brooke should have used a more professional tone because Vanessa’s next words were said in a decidedly unprofessional one.

Vanessa smirked. “Yeah, you are.” 

“No, Vanessa, I’m not playing.” Brooke breathed in and out. “What happened-”

Vanessa cut her off. “Was the best sex of your life I know. I’ve heard it before.”

“No!” Brooke nearly shouted. “You don’t get it, do you? I can’t do this. I don’t do this. This isn’t right-”

“It felt pretty right.”

“Stop fucking talking.” Brooke snapped. They were _inches_ apart.

“Make. Me.” Vanessa said stepping closer, challenging Brooke yet again.

“Fucking hell.”

Before she could think about it too much, Brooke pressed Vanessa against the nearest flat surface and kissed her senseless.

When they got back to the stage, none of the dancers mentioned that Vanessa’s unkempt hair was suddenly down around her face or the red mark in the shape of a heart on Brooke’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chto heta? - Who is it?
> 
> Upuscim - Let us in.
> 
> Nas? - Us?
> 
> U mianie josć hosć. - I brought a guest.
> 
> Mozhet byt', odnazhdy ya voz'mu tebya. - Maybe one day I'll take you.
> 
> Myshka - Little mouse


	7. Kameron and The Artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kameron and Blair talk about their past, Scarlet is acting strange, Trixie uncovers Katya's secret, and Brooke is having girl problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, all my love to Meggie and Grapefruit for betaing and being amazing humans. Also, I took some liberties with Russain politics, if you have a problem with it, you can forward your complaint to www.getoffmydick.com
> 
> As for chapter titles from here on out, I want to get across the point that people go through their own character arcs at different times. So you may notice that the girls are not called The (Noun) and The (Noun) but rather by their names as they complete their arc. Does that make any sense? Or does it just sound overly pretentious and stupid? Yes. Oh well.

Kameron made it a habit of dancing late at night. After all the other dancers were gone after the moon was high in the sky.

She let herself dance.

Sometimes Blair would come watch.

It had become almost routine for them.

Blair would sit in the audience and cheer and applaud like a lunatic. Other times she would draw in her sketchbook and smile as Kameron tried to figure out what turn came next, or what would look better, a jump or a dip. 

Even if Blair was just napping quietly, she always made Kameron’s heart soar.

Tonight was one of those nights where Blair sat, bleary-eyed, sketchbook in hand, staring up at Kameron like she was the most beautiful creature on earth.

Kameron finished her performance with a dramatic bow just to make Blair laugh. Kameron liked the sound of Blair’s laugh. Like pretty much everything about Blair.

The older girl hopped off the stage and crawled over the first few rows of seats to come sit a row in front of the young designer, straddling the old theatre seat backwards so she could see Blair’s smile.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Blair spoke in her soft voice. “I made somethin' for ya.” 

“Oh yeah? For me?”

“Well, I mean, I ain't made it yet, but I drawn it.”

Blair turned the notebook in her hands around to show Kameron.

It was her. It was her, styled in one of the most beautiful dresses Kameron had ever seen. She was being dramatic, sure - but despite the small size of the gesture it filled her heart with joy.

And it was her, not just some model for the gown, it was Kameron. All 5 feet 11 inches of her. All muscles bulging out in a way that always made her a bit self-conscious. She didn’t feel self-conscious now, she felt… beautiful.

The dress was gorgeous. Long flowing blue fabric that looked like it floated out around her legs, the sweetheart neckline delicately clinging to her body in all the right places. The silver flecks from Blair’s pencil littered the dress with a glimmer, a shine that somehow seemed to add depth to the otherwise simple drawing. 

But the details in her eyes were what really made Kameron melt. 

They were deep brown, but still somehow shifted in the light. They spoke of pencil shavings and barely-there eraser marks, and _time. _

Kameron didn’t have words, she tried and failed to find words that weren’t going to scare Blair away.

That’s when she took notice of the pad Blair was sketching on.

It was the same one filled with sketch after sketch of Brianna.

Blair seemed to realize this at the same time Kameron did.

“I ran outta paper so I had ta use this one.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kameron spoke, trying not to let the jealousy and anger seep into her words. She stood up, making her way back to the stage, the lightness in her chest dimmed with every step she took.

“Kameron, what’s wrong?” Blair called after her.

“I’m not her,” Kameron said, not hiding the contempt in her voice any longer.

“I’m not sayin’ you are. Kameron, darlin’, listen-”

“No, angel. If you were hoping I’d wake up one day and be her, be a bitch to you, it’s not gonna happen. I would never do that to you. Never. I would never hurt you like that. I’d never hurt you period.”

“I know, Kameron, please I know.”

“I haven’t ever felt this way for somebody before.” Kameron softened her voice as she spoke mostly to herself. “I want to keep you safe.” 

“You do.” Blair stood up, moving to stand within an arm's reach of Kameron. 

“No, clearly I don’t. You wouldn’t feel the need to put on the back of the page of your ex then.”

Blair was silent.

She looked up at Kameron, who sighed and sat down on the stage so they could look at each other.

Kameron took Blair’s hands in her own, trying to ground them both. “You think you’re ready but you aren’t. I’m tellin’ you, angel. You gotta believe me on this one.” Kameron tucked a piece of Blair’s hair behind her ear, and the younger girl smiled sadly as Kameron’s hand lingered for a moment before slowly falling from her face. 

Blair rested her head on Kameron’s thigh. It was an awkward position, with Blair standing nearly bent in half to be close to the older girl, but she didn’t mind. Kameron trailed her fingers lightly through the long blonde waves, perfectly soft and sweet, perfectly representative of the girl it belonged to.

“What happened?” Blair asked softly after a bit of silence. “Why’d ya stop dancin’? You love it, clearly, you do.” Kameron’s fingers stopped, and for a moment Blair thought she’d overstepped. But her fingers continued their small caresses a moment later. 

Kameron sighed. “We were fucking around in our theatre. The one we have now. Brooke and I had just finished signing the lease and we couldn’t wait a damn minute to celebrate. It doesn’t look the same now as it did back then. It was old, probably the oldest thing in town. Tech hadn’t been looked at, I mean, we had hardly looked at the damn thing. We were young, we thought we knew everything.” 

Kameron breathed in and out, and Blair took her head off her lap to intertwine their fingers. “A stage light fell on me. It was old. We shoulda fucking checked before doing anything stupid.” 

“We were dancing, fucking around, making our dream come true. And there was this loud crack and it fell. Right on my foot, shattered the thing up to my ankle pretty much. I fell on the stage and banged up my head real good. Doctors said I’d never walk again. Said I had a brain bleed.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah. I went through months and months of therapy, physical and otherwise. They told me not to push it, but I did. I pushed every day to walk again. To get the chance to dance again.” Kameron smiled. “They said I couldn’t ever be that strong again. So I spent my life proving them wrong. I worked out every day, ate so healthy. I got my body to where it is today and I’m strong… physically.” 

Kameron paused. “Not so much on the inside, but that’s a work in progress.” 

“Oh darlin’, you’re the strongest person I know.” Blair squeezed her hands and tilted Kameron’s face down to meet her eyes. “Thank you for tellin’ me.”

“Do you believe me when I say you aren’t ready to handle all this yet? You need to take time for yourself, figure out what it is you want. I’ll be here when you figure it out.”

“I believe ya,” Blair said. And she meant it. “But I also know that I got feelins’ for you.”

Kameron’s smile took over her face, but she tried to school it. This wasn’t about her right now. This was about Blair. “I’m not saying you gotta stop, actually please don’t stop liking me, it feeds my ego.”

Blair laughed a bit.

Kameron held Blair’s face in her hands. “I think I’m falling in love with you too, angel, and I’m scared, ‘cause the last time I fell in love with something I was told I’d never walk again.”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Kameron. You got me.”

Kameron nodded and took her hands off Blair’s face before she could do anything stupid. 

Blair smiled sadly at the gesture but tried to not let it show as she made her way out of the theatre. 

“Hey, angel?” Kameron called after her.

Blair whipped around. 

“I’ll be here.”

Blair smiled. “I know.”

* * *

Yvie was perched atop the couch in her dressing room, Scarlet coming in every five minutes to double-check that she really was feeling better and had not, in fact, changed her mind at the last second.

“Scar, honey, you’re making me nervous with how much you’re pacing. I’m fine.”

“Yves, don’t you think you should take a break? I’m sure Nina wouldn’t mind letting you off for a few cities.”

“Scar, I wanna stay. I have to stay.”

“You have to recover and take it easy. You keep pushing yourself this hard and you’re gonna get really hurt.”

“I know. I know.” Yvie dismissed.

Scarlet lingered by the door, looking on as Yvie tied up the laces on her shoes. “We could make a mini-vacation out of it,” Scarlet suggested. “Go back to Albany. Have some time away. I think it would put some things into perspective.” Scarlet paused. “For both of us.”

Yvie looked up warily. “Scar, what are you saying?”

Scarlet wouldn’t meet Yvie’s eyes. “Nothing, I just thought it would be nice.”

“Miss Envy!”

Scarlet turned on her heel and walked quickly to the door at the sound of her name being called.

“Wait, no Scar-”

“It’s fine. Just rest.” Scarlet spoke with a small soft smile as she closed the door behind her.

Yvie tried not to get too in her head about what the fuck just happened. She had a show to do. She couldn’t focus on Scarlet’s recent weird behavior. Her overbearingness on Yvie suddenly, her reluctance to sleep, her frankly panicked tone of voice. And now this. 

Scarlet was always the work-driven one. She never took sick days, never took more than a thirty-minute nap, and always had her phone on her. She was a machine when it came to this company. The fact that she was willingly suggesting that they take time off was more than a bit worrying.

Yvie brushed it off for now, but the little voice in the back of her head said this was the beginning of the end.

Yvie ignored it and proceeded to get ready for the show.

* * *

Trixie smiled at her phone for the millionth time that hour.

_K: I’ll be seeing you soon_

Katya had sent it hours ago, and yet Trixie was still staring at it like the message would change. Like it would disappear along with Katya herself and the whole thing would just be some big joke at her expense.

But the text didn’t disappear. Nor the memories of their wild adventure nearly a month ago.

The memories stuck in her brain, along with Katya’s name. Her full name. Trixie couldn’t get it out of her head. 

_Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova_

She was sounding the letters out in her head over and over again on a loop when an idea suddenly hit her. Back ram-rod straight and eyes wide as she grabbed at her computer.

She was curious, so she spelled - to the best of her abilities - Katya’s name, her real name. No results were found at first, so after twenty or so minutes of putting her computer analytics degree to the test and fucking around with google translate, she finally got some results.

But the results that came up were all of some Russian princess who had gone missing a few years back. Trixie nearly gave up on the whole venture, but a strange curiosity got the better of her and she clicked on the first article. 

She came face to face with her Russian lover.

_Wait. What?_

Katya, her Katya, the one with the frizzy dye job and horrible fashion and mysterious past was splayed all over countless magazines. 

Trixie put each of the titles in the translator, each title confirming the sinking feeling in her stomach.

_“Russia’s Lost Queen”_

_“Princess and Duke to Wed in May”_

_“Beloved Ruler Goes Missing”_

_“Three Years Later: The Effects of the Disappearance”_

Trixie doesn’t think twice about calling Katya.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what, _myshka_?”

“Don’t call me that, I’m not a mouse.”

“Oh, so you are ‘_mad_’ mad.”

“You bet your fuckin ass I’m mad.” Trixie paused. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I guess cursing at the fucking Princess of Russia is frowned upon.”

"There is no official royalty in Russia," Katya said without missing a beat, but the usual joy in her voice was gone, instead it was replaced with an impassive coldness.

"Tell that to all the news outlets calling you the ‘missing future queen’”

"Russia is a republic, the royal family is just a title. Most people don’t even know of the royal family because they are insignificant."

"It says you have a say in all laws passed and that you can veto whatever you feel like." 

“Which I have never done.”

“So it’s true?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You might as well have.”

“Listen, Trix-”

“Is it true you’re engaged too?”

“I was, yeah, but the law legally absolves the engagement after five years.”

Trixie laughed but there was no joy in it. 

“You’re the future heir to the Russian throne! You’re engaged! You’re acting like these aren’t important things to tell someone!”

“I was waiting until we got married.”

Trixie didn’t laugh.

“Listen, _myshka_, it isn’t what it seems.“

“Really? ‘Cause it seems like you lied to me. Lied from the minute I met you.”

“Trixie, please, can you just listen to me for a moment, _pozhaluysta_?”

Trixie hung up the phone before Katya could convince her to stay on the line.

* * *

Blair ran through her list one more time with Monet who was rolling her eyes and assuring her that they got everything. 

They were back in their home theatre for a week before heading back off to hit the western US cities. Blair saw this as a perfect opportunity to take care of a few ghosts from her past.

Monet nodded once, twice, three times, telling Blair it really was fine. 

“What did you say you were going to California for?” Vanessa spoke, as she sat up from her position on Blair’s couch.

“Just some business that needs tendin’ to. I’ll be back ‘fore you know it.”

“You ain’t about to walk out on us, now are you, Miss Blair?” 

“Of course not. I could never walk out on you, baby.” Blair threw a wink at Vanessa who fake swooned and fell dramatically back against the couch. 

Blair giggled.

She hugged Monet, who gave her a knowing smile. 

Blair leaned down to give Vanessa a peck on the cheek, but of course, Vanessa tried to turn her head and get a real kiss. Blair just laughed harder and chastised her lightly “I’m a lady after all,” she joked.

Blair left the theatre slowly, trying not to take notice of the crew members as they passed by her. 

She hailed a cab and before she knew it, she was standing outside a gorgeous theatre in San Francisco. 

It was one of those fancy old theatres that were reminiscent of Old Hollywood. The glamour and elegance practically dripped off the walls. If Blair weren’t here for a very specific purpose, she would have started snapping pictures to sketch out later.

For now, though, she was being escorted by a security team through the back passages of the gorgeous theatre, and she hardly had a moment to think before she was face to face with a woman she hadn’t seen in person for nearly three years.

“What are you doing here?”

If to further rub salt in old wounds, Brianna’s tone was harsh and demanding.

“I came to see you.”

“Why?”

_So nothing had changed._

Blair smiled to herself and knew then that it was truly over. Whatever they had, it had ended a long time ago, but now, now it was over.

“How are the costumes coming?” Blair ignored her question. 

“What are you really doing here? Here to scope out the competition?”

“No. Jesus. Do ya really think so lowly of me?”

“Answer my fucking question.” Briana was drunk. Or high. One of the two. Blair used to be able to distinguish between them, but now, now it was like she was talking to a stranger.

“I just needed some closure. After everything.” Blair fought the urge to wring her hands. “We never really talked about it. ”

Brianna’s eyes flashed dangerously at the mention of their past. She looked around to the other people in the room. “Out.” She demanded.

They made themselves scarce. 

Brianna sighed as the scrambling entourage took just long enough for her to take another swig from her water bottle, and Blair was positive now there wasn’t water in it. 

Brianna sighed again and attempted to stand up and get closer to Blair. She bailed on that idea when she noticed she could barely walk. She sat back down, none too gracefully, and rubbed her forehead worriedly. 

“I know what I did to you was shitty.” She paused, and Blair held her breath, hoping she'd get the apology she had so craved these past few years. “But it _made_ me, baby.” Brianna held her arms out to the room around her. “It made me so much more than I was ever gonna be if I stayed.”

Blair didn’t bite back a bitter laugh at the words. “We all make choices in life, but usually we take a minute to think ‘bout other people’s feelins before we do shit like that.”

“I know.”

“No, ya don’t know. You cared ‘bout your career, trust me, I get it. But you never thought ‘bout mine. Not once in your whole plan did you ever imagine me makin’ it big with you. Did ya?”

“No.” It wasn’t said with any particular emotion attached to it, it was just… the truth. Brianna hadn’t ever thought they would make it. Hadn’t ever considered the possibility that they could have worked out.

Blair’s demeanor changed. She plastered on her most professional smile and spoke her next words calmly. “That’s all I came here for. Thank you, Mrs. Panandrani. Good luck with your show tonight.”

“Blair wait-”

But by the time Brianna could stand firmly on her feet, Blair was already out the door.

* * *

Kameron walked up the familiar stairs to Brooke and Nina’s office.

She smiled at the old scuff mark on the third stair from the top. She still distinctly remembered how Monet had unknowingly walked on the fresh coat of paint and left a trail of brown footprints all over the backstage area.

Kameron shook her head lightly, she didn’t have time for reminiscing. She knocked twice on the office door and let herself in.

“Hey, Kam. What’s up?” Brooke said, not looking up from her computer. 

Kameron didn’t even take a breath before she started on her spiel. “I wanna join the company. I know I said I wasn’t ready but I am now. I wanna be up there. I know I’m not up to date on all the dances, but I can learn them. I can do it. Just give me a chance, B. Please.”

Brooke had to ask her to repeat herself once, twice, then one more time because she was crying. 

Brooke couldn’t pull Kameron into her arms fast enough.

The two hugged and squealed and generally let themselves rejoice in the fact that after all this time, their dream, their _original_ dream was happening.

Brooke pulled back but stayed close to Kameron, the safety she felt in the younger girl’s presence spurred her on.

“This is perfect timing actually, cause I’m gonna be gone for a bit and I need someone to take my spot in the lineup.”

“Where’re you going on such late notice, Miss Boss Lady?”

Brooke looked at the floor, her hands were clasping and unclasping with her breath. “It’s not a big deal, just need to check up on some things. See the cats, you know.”

Kameron pulled up a chair as Brooke rambled, nodding unconvincingly.

“What did she do?” Kameron probed.

Brooke sighed but couldn’t hide the smile on her face. Of course, Kameron knew. Who didn’t know? 

“She didn’t do anything.”

“And that’s the problem.”

Brooke nodded. She may be incredibly obvious, but still. It was nice that she didn’t have to say anything. It was nice that Kameron just _knew_. Knew what she needed. It wasn’t that Brooke couldn’t talk to Nina or Monet, but those two were still so wrapped up in their honeymoon phase that she didn’t want to bother them with her own spiraling emotions.

“Have you talked to her?”

“What am I supposed to say?”

“‘Hey, Vanessa, I think I’m in love with you’ would probably get the point across.”

“I’m not in love with her! Jesus, no.”

Kameron gave her a withering stare.

“Okay then. How about ‘Hey Vanessa, I really like fucking you and I only want to do that. I don’t think about holding your hand or sleeping next to you or stealing kisses in between rehearsal or going on stupid cheesy dates with you. Nope. Just wanna bang you. That’s all.’”

“This isn’t funny, Kameron.”

“I’m amusing myself. Shall I go on?”

“Look. It’s not love. It can’t be that. I’ve only known her for-”

“Ten months.”

_Had it been ten months? Already? It felt like weeks since the ball of chaos and energy that was Vanessa first graced their stage. _

“I’ve only really gotten to know her in the past few weeks. And even still I don’t really know her.”

“You know what her pussy tastes like but not her middle name. Gotcha.”

“Not helping, Kam.”

“Sorry, sorry. Look B. I think you like her, and I know for you that’s new, but this is how we regular folk do things. We go up to the person, we ask them out, we keep doing that for a few weeks, then hopefully we start fucking each other’s brains out.”

“Jesus, Kam.”

“It seems like you guys skipped the first couple steps, but that’s okay. That’s fine.”

Brooke bit her lip, not sure what to say.

“Look, B. I know you haven’t done this before, had proper feelings. You had girls in your bed nearly every night in college, but you never really cared about them. Now I dunno if that was you not letting yourself get attached or what, but it was always just-”

“-me and you.”

“Me and you.” Kameron echoed.

Brooke smiled sadly; it spoke her next words for her. “You know I thought I loved you for a little while in there.”

“I know.”

They shared a private smile, no words were spoken, but an understanding passed between them. They both knew. They both had known. 

The unspoken words were a mixture of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘it’s fine’ and ‘I love you.’

“We never woulda worked. You know they say don’t mix business with pleasure.” Kameron shot her a wink.

The moment was broken and Brooke was left with her mouth hanging open at Kameron’s comment.

“What’s gotten into you recently?”

Kameron just smiled and shook her head. “Nothing, I’m just happy is all.”

“Well, cut it out. It’s giving you a personality. It’s weird.”

Kameron smacked her arm lightly.

“Ow, bitch.”

The first playful hit quickly devolved into a full-on fight, with Brooke and Kameron running around the small office space in the upstairs of a theatre they bought through their blood sweat and tears with a company they had built together.

And there they were. Acting like children.

Brooke swore she had never been happier.


	8. The Lonely Girl and The Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kam joins the company, Vanessa gets to see Brooke's apartment, Yvie questions Scarlet, and Trixie is totally and completely fine in every sense of the word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to Meggie for helping me out so much with this chapter. She is genuinely an angel on this earth and I have no idea what I would do without her.
> 
> Thank you to you guys who have stuck with me while I took forever to update. Thank you for all the comments and the love and literally everything. Thank you. 
> 
> I'm sorry it took so long, but it's here now.

“All right, everybody give a lovely warm welcome to Kameron, who will be officially joining us as an alternate for the remainder of the tour, and if she impresses me, we may be able to offer her a principal position.”

There was a healthy round of applause, and Kameron ducked her head a bit at the praise. 

“We got two gorgeous blonde bitches now? The hell am I supposed to concentrate?” A’keria joked. 

The rest of the group gave a laugh, and Brooke rolled her eyes fondly. “Somehow, I think you’ll survive, Davenport.”

“Only if you stop wearing those sweatpants to rehearsals, Miss Brooke.”

“Down, Kiki,” Vanessa cut in, shooting A’keria a warning look.

The air was suddenly tense, as A’keria held up her hands in surrender and mouthed a ‘sorry’ to her friend. The rest of the dancers shared knowing looks, causing Brooke’s stomach to turn. Amidst the whispers and giggles, Vanessa tried to catch Brooke’s attention, but the older woman wouldn’t meet her eyes.

Brooke clapped her hands together, jolting the dancers out of their stupor. 

“Now, we need to re-block the group number and run it a few times to get Kam accustomed to it. I’ll turn the floor over to Alyssa for now, but I’m making notes.” The dancers straightened their backs. “Yes, that’s a threat.” Brooke tried to say jokingly to lighten the mood. 

It didn’t seem to work.

Brooke sighed and motioned for the choreographer to step in. She then watched from the stage for a few minutes, calling out critiques here and there, but after a bit, Brooke spotted Nina in the audience and moved to a seat next to her friend. 

They sat side by side in relative silence, Brooke occasionally shouting out a correction and Nina rifling through papers. They chatted here and there, mostly about business until Monet peeked her head out from backstage. 

Signature camera around her neck, she strode onto the stage and tapped Alyssa lightly on the shoulder. They shared a few words before Alyssa nodded dismissively, the older woman clearly in the zone she always got when teaching. Monet only smiled as a reaction and began snapping pictures, careful to stay out of the way for the most part.

Brooke looked over to see Nina, paperwork abandoned, staring up at the photographer adoringly.

Brooke fake-gagged until Nina smacked her on the arm.

“God, you two are like a damn Hallmark movie.”

“Thank you.” 

“You _would_ take that as a compliment.”

Nina hit Brooke on the arm again.

“I’m right, and you know it.”

Nina rolled her eyes.

Brooke let her giggles die out before lightly interlacing her and Nina’s fingers and squeezing her hand. “No, but for real, I’m happy for you,” Brooke said. “For both of you.” 

Nina smiled back at her. “I’m happy for me too.”

The two shared a soft smile before going back to their comfortable silence, but Brooke could tell something was eating at Nina the way she was biting the end of her pen.

Brooke sighed. “What?”

“Nothing!”

“It’s not nothing, it’s never nothing, so what is it?’

Nina relented. “So, Kam is on, and you’re taking a break, and-”

“Who told you that?”

“People talk.” Nina answered dismissively.

Brooke gave a dry laugh. “I didn’t know Kam had changed her name to People. Good to know.”

“Don’t be mad at her.”

Brooke sighed again. “I’m not mad, I just… I wanted to tell you in my own time.”

“So, you are leaving?”

“Yeah, I’m going home.” At Nina’s prolonged silence, Brooke tried to clarify. “Just for a few days. Promise.”

Nina was silent and wouldn’t meet Brooke’s eyes.

“Why?” she finally asked.

“I don’t know. I just… I can’t be here. I just need some time.”

Nina nodded and let the silence between them build again.

Brooke could tell there was still more.

“What?”

Nina chewed her lip as she spoke. “Are you going to tell her?”

“Tell who?”

Nina gave her a deadpan look. “You know who.”

“Yeah, I don’t think Voldemort really cares where I am. Also, he isn't real.”

Nina rolled her eyes.“Vanessa. Are you going to tell Vanessa?”

Brooke slouched a bit in her seat and started to pick at a loose thread in the upholstery, looking at anything other than Nina. “Why does it matter?” 

“Because you’re sleeping with her.”

“Not anymore.” Brooke mumbled.

“Okay, what’s the time limit on anymore? Cause I’m pretty sure just cause you aren’t fucking her right this very second, doesn’t mean you aren’t sleeping with her anymore.”

Brooke looked up from where they were seated to the stage, her eyes immediately picking out Vanessa from the crowd. “It’s complicated.” She said to mostly to herself but also Nina.

Nina sighed. “Everything’s always complicated with you, isn’t it? You can’t ever just let things happen.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You say that like it’s clever.”

Brooke smiled. “Touche.”

* * *

Making her way slowly through the halls of their home theatre, Brooke let her mind wander. She was grateful for the week off they had coming up, and thanked the stars that her break from the company aligned just so that she could say the extra days were an extended vacation. 

Brooke could get away with it. She deserved a break after all. 

She tried to tell herself it was a good thing. She worked too much, everyone said so. She tried to tell herself it was good and healthy and not her running away as a defense mechanism. 

Distance just put things into perspective. 

Yes. That was it. Perspective.

Brooke was so caught up in her head she nearly missed Vanessa’s sudden presence in front of her.

The younger girl didn’t say anything, just pulled Brooke into a bruising kiss and before either of them could think, they were in the back of an Uber.

Brooke tried to wrap her head around the last few steps that lead them to where they were now, but the movement of Vanessa rubbing her thighs together and bouncing her leg up and down beside her was thoroughly distracting.

Brooke placed her hand firmly on the younger girl’s leg. “Stop, you’re shaking the whole car.”

Vanessa stopped… for all of about three seconds.

“‘Nessa!”

This time, as soon as Brooke removed her hand, Vanessa made eye contact and started bouncing her leg again.

It was a challenge, as was everything Vanessa did.

Brooke rolled her eyes but didn’t bite this time. She let Vanessa go on rocking the car, not even turning her head in the younger girl’s direction. 

The movement suddenly stopped, and Brooke smirked triumphantly… until she heard breathy noises coming from the opposite end of the car. 

Vanessa had her eyes closed her head thrown back and and was rubbing herself through her jeans, her breath hitching on every pass of her hand.

All coherent thoughts left Brooke’s head and she had to hold herself back from gasping. 

She was acutely aware of their driver glancing back at the pair of them, and Brooke felt a flare of jealousy at the thought of someone else seeing Vanessa get off like this. But she couldn’t think too much about that now because Vanessa was only getting louder and more brazen with her display. 

Brooke leaned over, pulled Vanessa in by her hair, and growled in the younger girl’s ear, “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“You love it,” Vanessa spoke breathlessly.

Brooke didn’t respond, but firmly placed her hand over Vanessa’s and started to guide its motions as she whispered filthily into her ear, “Such a little slut, getting off in the back of an Uber.”

“What does that make you then?”

Brooke rolled her eyes, “You’re such a brat.” 

Vanessa’s next comeback was replaced with a breathy moan, that Brooke quickly had to cover with an awkwardly loud cough. 

Thankfully their driver was pointedly ignoring them by this point.

Brooke shot a warning glance at Vanessa who only smirked in response. She opened her mouth, mischief in her eyes, presumably to make another sinful sound, when without thinking, Brooke placed two of her fingers in Vanessa’s mouth, effectively shutting her up. This was clearly not what the younger girl had expected, but she wasn’t one to give in so easily. Vanessa ran her tongue up and down the two fingers, swirling her tongue around the digits and whimpering wantonly. All the while continuing to rub herself on her and Brooke’s joined hands.

“Quit it or I’ll spank you.”

Vanessa stilled immediately and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Brooke retracted her fingers quickly and grabbed onto Vanessa’s hand. She worried for a moment that she pushed too far, but when she met Vanessa’s eyes, the pupils were blown so wide from arousal she could barely make out the brown around them.

“Oh, you like that, huh?”

Vanessa could only nod jerkily. 

Brooke had to lean back a bit, the proximity to Vanessa was making her mind feel all melty. More so than usual.

“God, you’re a dream,” Brooke’s mouth spoke before she could think.

Vanessa had only just processed the phrase when the car came to a stop.

Brooke shuffled Vanessa out of the car and sent her inside before turning around to meet the unreadable expression on their driver’s face. 

Brooke should be embarrassed, but with the knowledge that Vanessa was waiting for her, probably rubbing her thighs together and getting herself even more worked up, Brooke couldn’t care less. 

“If there are any stains-”

“Bill me.”

She turned on her heel and walked into the complex.

They managed to make it up to Brooke’s place only stopping to make out aggressively twice against walls of the elevator and hallway respectively.

Only as Brooke turned the key and Vanessa rushed into the apartment ahead of her did she have pause.

Brooke hadn’t brought a girl home in years, opting instead for the other girl’s place each time. Her apartment felt too personal. It was easier to keep people at a distance if they couldn’t see your family photos on the walls.

So when Vanessa stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the living room, eyes scanning her surroundings, the growing dread in Brooke’s stomach nearly took over her.

But a moment later, Vanessa turned away from the modest living space to meet Brooke’s eyes. 

“This place is beautiful,” Vanessa said softly, her eyes even softer, as if she knew this was weird for Brooke. As if she knew what Brooke was thinking.

Brooke laughed looking down at her feet. “It’s messy as hell. Thanks for lying though.” 

Vanessa smiled softly and continued to look around. “It’s very…” She trailed off.

“Very what?”

“Homelike. Homey. Like it feels like somebody lives here. It ain’t the weirdly clean depressin’ place I thought it’d be.”

“Uhhh, thanks I guess?” Brooke laughed a bit, trying to let herself relax. This was her own damn home after all.

“It’s beautiful, Brooke.” Vanessa’s soft eyes and voice were back again, and Brooke felt something akin to panic rise in her chest. All thoughts of relaxing were promptly thrown out the window. 

It was too much. The softness and the tenderness of her voice and the words. It felt like too much. It felt like Brooke couldn’t breathe. She was choking on her own feelings.

“Not as beautiful as you though,” Vanessa added.

Brooke had to turn away, had to shield her eyes from the sight before her. She couldn’t shut her ears for fear of looking like a crazy person, but she could at least shield her eyes from the vision of beauty standing in her living room, looking to all the world like she belonged there.

Brooke mumbled something under her breath that very much could have been a thank you or it could have not been, regardless it must not have been the reaction Vanessa had expected.

She stepped closer, closing the gap between them before speaking again. “What was that?” 

“What was what?” Brooke asked innocently, subtly trying to put space between herself and Vanessa.

“What you just did when I said you was pretty.” Vanessa was analyzing her face now, and Brooke felt it heat up under the scrutiny.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you- are you embarrassed?” Vanessa asked incredulously. 

“What? No!” 

“The great Miss Brooke Lynn Hytes embarrassed by a compliment?”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“Coulda fooled me.” Vanessa suddenly got a smirk on her face. “What happens if I call you talented?”

“‘Nessa.” Brooke started to back away from her now, feelings building up in her gut telling her to run and run and never look back but also begging her to stay and see this through. 

“What about brilliant?” Vanessa asked walking closer, trying to close the distance between them.

“Vanessa-” Brooke kept moving, couldn’t get far enough away. She just needed to get out of earshot. That would stop all this- all this- all this noise in her head.

“What about gorgeous?”

“Or selfless?”

“Hotter than hell?”

Vanessa was saying it all playfully, genuinely thinking Brooke was embarrassed, but the closer she got, the longer she kept it up, the less sure she seemed. 

“You’re amazing.”

Brooke stepped back.

“Lovely.”

Vanessa stepped forward.

“Breathtaking.”

Brooke stepped back.

“Caring.”

Vanessa stepped forward.

“Kind-hearted.” 

Brooke couldn’t back up any more.

She was pressed against the front door, looking around wildly like a trapped animal. Vanessa was right in front of her now, and though Brooke towered above her, Vanessa held all the power. 

And she did what Vanessa always did, she pushed.

“Brooke?”

“What, ‘Nessa?”

Vanessa gently ran a hand along Brooke’s jaw, angling it down so the two could breathe in each other’s air. 

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Don’t-”

“Let me show you.”

Suddenly, everything in Brooke’s mind went blissfully silent. 

And she found her head nodding before she could stop herself.

* * *

Yvie was sat, well, was laid across their tiny couch in their tiny apartment. She was flipping through channels on the TV, looking blankly at the contraption. Her mind was spinning, and nothing seemed to be able to stop it. 

Time off was always hard for Yvie, it was even harder for Scarlet. The two were work-driven, type-A perfectionist control freaks. They didn’t do breaks.

The first few days off were lovely, they slept a collective fifteen hours straight and only got out of bed to pick up their delivery food. But after that, they both started to get tense. 

No one seemed to get it when Yvie tried to explain.

She just needed to have something to do, something fixed and constructive. When she was younger, she’d pick up part-time jobs left and right during school breaks. Never letting herself go more than a few days without something to keep her occupied.

Scarlet got it, though. She would even say Scarlet had less of a tolerance for relaxation than Yvie herself did.

“I feel like my brain starts to stagnate. I don’t feel challenged or inspired, and it makes me crazy,” Scarlet had said. 

Yvie’s mind was still spinning, laying out fragments, and painting pictures behind her eyes. Her leg had started to bounce a bit from her position on the couch. 

As if on cue, Scarlet called to her from the kitchen.

“Yves, come help me make dinner.”

Yvie smiled in spite of herself. 

It was nice to be understood.

Yvie pulled Scarlet into a quick hug and kept her arms wrapped around Scarlet’s waist while the other girl asked softly, “You wanna make pasta or soup?”

“Why not both?” Yvie said, only half-joking. 

Scarlet gave a small chuckle, which Yvie counted as a win. The two untangled themselves as the readied the kitchen for imminent destruction. 

“Sasta,” Scarlet mumbled under her breath.

“Poup,” Yvie giggled.

Scarlet rolled her eyes. “You’re a child,” she said, but there was no malice in her words. 

After wasting about ten minutes debating over what to call their new creation, and getting sidetracked by a couple of heated kisses, Scarlet sentenced Yvie to cutting vegetables on the opposite side of their tiny alleyway kitchen.

Yvie groaned but did as she was told, and the two worked side by side in relative silence... for all of about a minute before Yvie broke and started cracking her worst dad jokes just to make Scarlet laugh. The older girl even spilled half the broth onto the floor after a particularly bad one. Neither of them seemed to mind, getting wrapped up in each other’s company.

It was the most fun Yvie could remember having with just the two of them in a long while.

So it made no sense as to why Scarlet looked so sad all of a sudden.

“Babe?”

Scarlet looked up from where she had been staring blankly at the counter. “Hmm?”

“Are you okay? You just kinda… spaced out on me there.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m good, sorry!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” 

Yvie sighed, never one to allow bullshit to go on for too long; she pushed the issue. “Scar, what’s been goin’ on with you lately?”

“What do you mean?” Scarlet’s voice was innocently questioning, but Yvie knew she had hit on something when Scarlet looked down at her feet.

“You’re just acting strange. At work, you’re either hovering over me or abandoning me for entire days. And every time I look at you, you look sad.”

Scarlet sighed and turned away to face the pot again. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Scar, please.” Yvie placed her hands in Scarlet’s. “You’ve got me worried.”

“I’m sorry, Yves, really I am. I never meant to worry you.” Scarlet squeezed her hands once, twice, and then let them go. “I just- I’m just feeling a little lost.”

“Okay.”

“In life.”

“That’s understandable. We have crazy lives. It’s normal to feel like that.”

Scarlet nodded, but Yvie still wasn’t convinced.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Well, it’s not only that. Or maybe it is, I’m not really sure. I thought that was it, but maybe there’s more to it. I’ve just been thinking a lot recently...” Scarlet was talking too quickly, rushing out words, and not completing sentences. “...I’m just unsure of my future with you and with the company and-”

Yvie cut her off, insecurity creeping into her words, “Wait, wait. You’re feeling weird with me?”

“No! I mean. Not because of you, per se...”

“Then what?”

Scarlet looked back down at her hands. “It’s just… ever since you got hurt and didn’t tell me-”

“But we talked about that, Scar!”

“I know, I know! I’m just feeling unsure of where I stand with you.” Scarlet finally looked up to meet Yvie’s eyes. 

She looked nervous and sad. 

Yvie’s heart nearly broke at the sight, but at the same time, she couldn’t stop the feelings of anger from rising in her. Scarlet had always been the one that was bad at opening up, the one who played hard to get for nearly a year. She had been the one that took ages to convince that moving in together was a good idea. She was the one that was guarded and hard to read and apathetic at times.

Hearing that Yvie herself was the one who was having a difficult time displaying her emotions was crushing.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Yvie’s voice was raised now, unable to stop the hurt from getting the best of her. 

“I mean… where do you see yourself in five years?”

“Scar, we’ve been dating for four years now, I think the time for icebreakers has passed.” Yvie couldn’t stop herself, her words coming out harsher than she intended.

Scarlet looked to the floor, her hands fidgeting by her sides. “I meant like us. Where do you see us in five years?”

“What do you mean?” Yvie asked exasperated.

“Nevermind, forget I asked.” Scarlet turned away from the kitchen and walked purposefully to the living room. “It was stupid. I’m sorry. Let’s just forget it.” 

“Baby, please don’t do this.”

Scarlet ignored her and picked up her purse from the table and headed for the door.

“I’m gonna go get more tomato sauce, I think we’re out.”

She had almost turned the knob when Yvie called after her. “Scarlet!”

The older girl turned her head to meet Yvie’s eyes.

“Please, don’t shut me out.” 

Scarlet looked hard at Yvie for a long moment.

Then she left without another word.

* * *

“Trix, someone’s here to see you.”

“Tell her to fuck off.”

“T, she’s followed us for nearly six tour stops, don’t you think you should just talk to her?”

“No.”

“T-”

“Just leave it.” Trixie picked up her tap shoes and took a deep breath in and out. “Tell her to fuck off.”

Dela left the bathroom without another word, but with a very concerned look.

Trixie sighed at her reflection. 

It had been a long day.

Her legs and feet were killing her, her head was pounding, and she couldn’t get the image of piercing blue eyes out of her head. She needed a super-indulgent bath, including many bath bombs, her chill playlist, and about a year’s worth of rest. So when she swung open the doors to the dressing room, her mind preoccupied with choosing which of her expensive soaps to use, and she saw Katya lounging at her makeup station, Trixie really didn’t have it in her to deal with this. 

“This space is for performers only.”

“I can juggle.”

“Oh, so Russia’s royal family invested in classes about juggling but not basic human decency? Good to know.”

“_Myshka_-”

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘I’m leaving,’ I don’t wanna hear it.”

When the older woman simply sighed and mimed locking her mouth shut, Trixie only rolled her eyes before shooing Katya away from her station with an irritated hand motion. She sat down and took a deep breath in and out, readying herself for the never-easy task of wiping away what she could of her heavy makeup.

Usually, she would put on some music, chat with her fellow dancers, make a few jokes about the crowd that night, then head for bed, but tonight was different.

Katya hadn’t taken the not so subtle hint to get lost, and was still there, hovering over Trixie’s right shoulder, biting her lip quite literally and fidgeting.

The rest of the room’s occupants were looking at the pair of them, some sharing knowing glances, others skeptical or even quizzical looks at each other. The room was dead silent.

Trixie sighed and raised her voice, addressing the rest of the room. “Jesus, it’s not a fucking funeral, will someone put on some damn music?” 

As if that was the cue they needed, the dressing room was suddenly filled with the sound of animated chattering and gossip.

Violet came over to check on Trixie at least twice in ten minutes. Each time Trixie sent her away with a promise of everything being okay, and each time Violet shot Katya a withering stare.

It was only after assuring Violet, Jinkx, Vanessa, and even Yvie that she was okay that they finally left her alone with Katya in the dressing room.

Katya had the decency to wait until the door closed before trying to launch into her tirade.

Trixie stopped her with a single finger.

Each time Katya went to start over, Trixie stopped her.

This went on for about ten minutes before Katya finally stopped trying to talk. Trixie let the room bask in silence for a few seconds before she spoke calmly and firmly.

“I don’t wanna hear what you have to say. I don’t want your excuses or your lame ass explanation for this whole mess. I don’t want it.”

Katya sighed. “_Myshka_, I know you are putting your foot down, but I’m putting mine down too. I’m not going away. Not until you hear me out.”

“That’s why security was invented.”

“Trixie, please.” 

Everything in Trixie was screaming at her to let Katya in, to hear her out. But everything inside her was also pissed the fuck off.

Katya had lied to her. Plain and simple. Had lied since the day they met. On the other hand, Trixie was very much enamored of her. So much so that she didn’t really mind the lying.

But she _should. Shouldn’t she?_

She should mind. And she should care.

Her trust was broken. 

She didn’t know the woman standing in front of her.

Not the way she thought she did.

But even still, her heart had swelled three times just from hearing her own name from Katya’s lips. And she didn’t mind the lying as much as she should. And that made her sad.

So she was mostly sad, a bit angry, and very much in love with Katya. 

So she made a compromise with herself.

“You have five minutes.”

The relief on Katya’s face was immediate. 

“Come with me. I have to show you something.” 

Trixie denied Katya’s open hand but nodded for her to lead the way. Katya wove her way between the various props and set equipment in the illustrious theatre, walking as if she knew the layout. They went through so many doors that Trixie lost count, but somehow they ended up outside.

Katya came to a sudden stop, looked right then left, thinking aloud to herself. 

“Now, where did that damn car go?”

“Uh-uh. You aren’t taking me on another wild romantic adventure. Anything you wanna say, you can say now.”

Katya sighed.

“At least let me find a spot to sit down.”

“Four minutes now.”

Katya’s eyes bulged out, and she didn’t wait for Trixie to reject her hand this time, she grabbed her hand, and they ran from the back of the theatre into the brush just outside. Trixie’s hair and clothes were being pulled at, but her curiosity got the better of her. As well as the fact that Katya was pulling her entire body weight like it was nothing through the dense bush, so she didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter.

Finally, they came to a clearing. The grass stretched on and on and on, only a faint line of trees was visible at the far end of the clearing.

Katya plopped down onto the wet grass without so much as a thought to her clothes or general person. She then leaned back and propped herself up on her elbows, then motioned for Trixie to follow suit, and after a bit of mumbling about the condition of the dirt, Trixie found herself laying parallel to Katya on the grass. 

Trixie let her head fall back onto the earth, and her eyes reach up to the sky above her. She let her mind go blissfully quiet in favor of tracing patterns in the stars, making up shapes and people and cities she longed to see.

“Trix?” Katya asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“I’m really sorry.”

Trixie sighed. “I know you are.”

“Like really, really sorry.”

“I know.”

“Like the sorriest I’ve ever been in my life. Including the time I broke my mother’s collection of fine china seagulls after she told me that Santa wasn’t real and then I blamed it on my little brother who got the fear of god yelled into him.”

“I didn’t know you had a little brother.”

“I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” 

_That was an understatement._ Trixie thought.

“I guess.”

Katya sat up suddenly, determination in her eyes. “Well, we should fix that then, shouldn’t we?”

“Katya, I-”

“Just wait. Before you tell me you hate me forever, and you can never forgive me.” Katya pulled out a stack of paper from a bag that Trixie only just noticed was slung across her body. If Trixie weren’t feeling… whatever she was feeling, she would laugh at the absurdity of Katya pulling a loose leaf manifesto out of a bag that seemed to have appeared magically.

“Here.” Katya pushed the stack of bound papers into Trixie’s hands. They were much heavier than Trixie thought.

“What’s this?”

“A book. My book.”

“You’re a writer?” Trixie asked incredulously.

“Not a good one. That’s why I need your help.”

Trixie knew where this was going now, and started to shake her head at the prospect of what Katya was asking. “I write songs, not stories.”

“What are songs if not stories set to a melody?” Katya mused.

“God, that was pretentious.” Trixie groaned.

“Just read it.” 

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m asking you to. Please, _myshka_.” Katya took Trixie’s hands lightly in her own. “If you still hate me after reading it, then I’ll go away. You will never have to hear from me again. I’ll disappear.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Trixie pretended to mull it over in her head, mind already made up to binge-read the whole thing in one night purely out of morbid curiosity. 

“Okay, then.”

The two went back to their own respective activities, Trixie pretending she wasn’t looking at Katya by looking up at the sky every now and then, and Katya openly staring at Trixie while picking at the blades of grass.

Time seemed to move slowly, and the sky seemed to hardly move at all.

Trixie shut her eyes one moment, then opened them a moment later, and found her head in Katya’s lap, and her hair being carded through with such gentleness that her heart nearly gave out at the feeling.

“Katya?”

“Yes, _myshka_?”

“I don’t hate you.”

There was a pause.

“I know.”

* * *

Brooke smiled at their mass of tangled limbs amidst the messy bed sheets. She watched lazily as Vanessa pulled herself up enough to steal a quick kiss from Brooke’s lips. The younger girl evidently ran out of strength after that exchange and collapsed back onto the mass of pillows she had demanded. 

Brooke laughed. “You know you’re a lot more romantic than I thought.”

Vanessa smacked a pillow down so she could see Brooke without lifting her head. “Was that a read?”

“No, baby. It’s sweet.”

“And I’m the romantic? With how soft your voice just got? Child.”

“Again with the backtalk.” Brooke warned.

“You love it.”

“I do.”

Brooke’s voice was light and her chest was pounding and the prolonged eye contact was making her feel exposed.

Luckily Vanessa broke it first, letting her eyes fall to the bedsheets.

“You gonna make me leave now?”

“Hmm?”

“Or you gonna sneak out again?”

Brooke put her head in her hands and sighed. 

“I figured we was at the age now where we don’t gotta do none of that sneakin’ around shit… but I guess not”

“It’s not what you think,” Brooke deflected.

“It is though.” Vanessa sighed and let a bit of her resolve slip. Her words suddenly became laced with touches of resentment. “You’re catching feelings and tryna act like you angsty as hell about ‘em. You don’t do none of this fallin’ for someone shit and you think it makes you interesting to be this pretty troubled thing. It don’t. It makes you exhausting.”

“Vanessa-” 

“No, no, you gonna listen to me right now.” Vanessa coaxed Brooke’s hands away from her face and intertwined their fingers. She waited to speak until Brooke made eye contact with her. 

It was strange. 

The two had seen each other naked numerous times by then, but in that moment, Brooke felt more exposed than ever. 

“You don’t gotta put up this act wit’ me.” Vanessa’s voice softened. “I didn’t fall for your defense mechanisms. I fell for you, Brooke.”

“You don’t even know me,” Brooke deflected. 

“I’d like to.”

Brooke was silent.

She looked at the sheets then the wall then the curtains then her hands.

_You wouldn’t, she wanted to say. You wouldn’t want to know me._

_I don’t want to know me._

_I’m a mess, not because it makes me interesting, but because I have a past. I have a history. One I’ve been running from my whole life._

_I’m damaged goods._

_I’m ill-tempered and overly dramatic and I never feel safe enough to sleep for more than four hours at a time._

Brooke was a cliché. She admitted it openly. 

The heartbreaker. They always called her. The mysterious new girl who spent too much time in the dance studio and in class and in other girl’s beds. She was sought after, chased. Everyone wanting to fix her, or know her, or get a glimpse of the beast. Every bit of the cliché she had perfected. It had become so interwoven with her personality Brooke had convinced herself it was real.

But in moments like this, where her head was spinning and her heart was pounding and her ears were ringing, and she looked at Vanessa, she knew it was all an act.

_And I care for you far too much to let you care for me. _

But Brooke didn’t say any of that because that sounded an awful lot like love.

She stayed silent.

And the seconds ticked by.

And Vanessa sighed. 

“It’s okay. I get it.”

Before Brooke could blink Vanessa started pulling on her clothes, and Brooke winced at how fast and precise her movements were; she was practiced, the moves familiar. 

“I didn’t say you had to leave.”

“You didn’t ask me to stay.”

Vanessa turned back to look at Brooke with one last unreadable expression. 

Brooke wanted to reach out, wanted to pull the young girl back into the bed, pull the covers over them both and let the rest of the world burn. She wanted to keep her close. She wanted to keep her safe. 

But if Brooke really wanted to keep Vanessa safe, she should let her go. _Right?_ That was the right thing to do.

After all this time of doing the wrong things: sleeping with Vanessa, getting attached to her, letting Vanessa get attached back. After all of that, Brooke had the opportunity to do the right thing. To let her go and not look back.

But she couldn’t help herself. 

“Vanessa-”

But she was cut off.

“It’s okay, Miss Brooke. I’ll see you at rehearsals tomorrow.”

Before Brooke could exhale, her apartment door slammed shut with finality.


	9. Nina and Monet and Kameron and Blair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kameron gets a new costume, Nina and Monet talk, Scarlet and Yvie don't, and Trixie reads Katya's autobiography.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello, how are ya? Sorry, it took so long to update, and thank you for sticking with me. Meggie is an angel for helping me out with this chapter, and an angel in general, but you already knew that.

Blair found Kameron lounging on the couch in Brooke and Nina’s office. Nina and Monet were bickering over something or another, but then a moment later smiling at each other like idiots. Nina’s face was perpetually red and Monet’s smugness could be felt from miles away.

“Knock knock.” Blair spoke softly even though she had been standing in the doorway for a few seconds at this point. The three women looked up at the sound and Kameron adorably sat up straighter. “Can I borrow Kameron for a sec?”

Nina and Monet shared a knowing smile. “I’ll do you one better, you can keep her,” Monet said.

Kameron rolled her eyes at Monet, but flashed Blair a sweet smile.

The two girls exited the office and barely made it three steps before Nina and Monet burst into giggles and none-too-quiet gossip.

“Sorry ‘bout them.”

Blair waved her hand dismissively and waited until the two of them came to the bottom of the stairs, just out of earshot from the office before grabbing Kameron’s hands in hers.

They took a moment.

“Hey,” Blair spoke softly.

“Hey,” Kameron said back. 

“I missed you.” 

“Yeah, where’d you run off to?”

Blair nodded her head, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you ‘bout.” She took a deep breath. “I went to see Brianna.”

Kameron’s face went through a slideshow of emotions before finally settling on surprise. Her body went tense, but Blair shook her head reassuringly before Kameron’s mind could bombard her with worries.

“It ain't what you think. I went to get closure.”

“Oh.” Kameron looked relieved. 

Blair tightened her grip on Kameron’s hands and stepped even closer to the older woman. “Kameron, honey, I like you.”

Kameron sighed, “Blair, I already told you—”

“Let me talk.” Blair cut her off. “Just because I don’t talk right don’t mean I’m stupid.”

“I know—”

Blair held up a finger to halt her.

“I knew I liked you. I knew for a while now. I wanted to do somethin’ for you, show you. You’re good at readin’ people, but I think you missed somethin’ kinda important.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m crazy ‘bout you.” Blair looked up at Kameron from under her eyelashes. “I wanted to make you somethin’, show you that I got feelins’ too. Follow me.”

Kameron let herself be led by the hand through the backstage of their home theatre. She had a distinct feeling of deja vu as they passed the familiar metal framework and speakers and equipment that lined their path. It felt like only yesterday they had made this same trek to Blair’s office. Not much had changed over the past months, only now their fingers were interlocked, and Kameron wasn’t afraid of the cocktail of affection blooming in her chest at the gesture. 

So maybe a few things had changed.

They stopped just outside the door, and Blair turned to Kameron expectantly. “You trust me, yeah?”

Kameron’s face softened. “Of course, angel.”

“Close your eyes.”

Kameron did as she was told and didn’t try to fight the smile on her face.

The door creaked open and the two shuffled inside a bit, then came to another stop. Blair’s warm presence was suddenly lost at her side, but Kameron wasn’t worried.

“‘Kay, you can open ‘em.”

Kameron blinked open her eyes and was met with the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

Draped elegantly over a mannequin was the dress from Blair’s drawing. It had come to life.

Kameron stared at it for a few moments before reaching out a hand to touch it. The fabric was so soft in her hands she thought it might disintegrate from her mere touch. The blue was even more brilliant in person, and just the perfect shade. Kameron let her hands roam over the garment, appreciating each and every stitch.

Blair was standing to the side of the display, biting her lip nervously.

“It’s beautiful,” Kameron finally whispered, scared if she spoke too loudly she would ruin the moment. 

Blair finally looked up to meet Kameron’s eyes. “It’s fittin’ for you then.” 

“Blair, I—”

Blair cut her off, scared if she didn’t fill the silence with something it would swallow her. “And the only reason I had drawn you in that notebook was ‘cause I already filled up another one with just designs for you.”

Blair took Kameron’s hands in hers again as the former senior stage crew member wracked her brain for words.

“Blair—”

“You don’t gotta say nothin,” Blair cut her off again.

Kameron’s hands lifted out of Blair’s to trace the curve of the young costume designer’s face, and the two exhaled together. The tension that always lingered in the air when they were together hung peacefully above their heads. It wasn’t pressing or all-consuming anymore. 

It was comfortable now that it knew it had an end. 

Kameron pulled Blair in and finally, finally their lips met. There weren’t fireworks or explosions in the distance, but there was heat. There was passion and joy and all that built up sadness. It all coalesced into something measured and practiced and oh so very slow. If Blair were with anyone else she would have lamented how leisurely it felt. But she was with Kameron, and Kameron wasn’t going anywhere. They had all the time in the world.

After a few moments Kameron had to pull away, the weight of what they were doing suddenly hit her, and she couldn’t keep from smiling. 

“What?” Blair asked, lips reddened, color high on her cheeks, a brilliant smile on her face. 

“Nothing.” Kameon laughed to herself. “I just, I thought you didn’t date dancers.”

Blair's smile somehow got even brighter, practically lighting up the whole room, “I thought you weren’t a dancer.”

* * *

Monet woke up to the sound of typing.

Correction. Monet woke up to the sound of typing and whispered curses.

She made her way slowly, sleepily, into Nina’s living room. The older woman’s face was illuminated by clear blue light. She looked beautiful, if not a bit frazzled. The mountain of papers strewn haphazardly about her couch added to the frustration no doubt. 

“Hey,” Monet whispered in greeting.

Nina looked up, surprised. “Oh, hi. Sorry, I was talking to B earlier and I thought since I was already up, I could start working on this—”

“Neens, it’s four a.m.”

“I know,” Nina sighed. “Brooke is just dealing with a lot and-”

Monet cut her off. “You know you don’t have to care for everyone all the time, honey.”

“Who else is gonna do it?”

“Their damn mamas.”

Nina smiled a bit, but still seemed hesitant to leave her work cocoon. Monet came over to sit beside her, careful to not disturb the papers. She took Nina’s hands off the keyboard and held them in her own, noting that Nina winced initially. “Tell Brooke to can it for now and come back to bed.” She spoke softly.

Nina’ averted her gaze and looked back to the computer, “I’ve got to finish this poster for the—”

“Ehn. Wrong answer,” Monet cut her off.

“But I—”

“Ehn.”

“‘Net—”

“EHN.”

Nina sighed, “Seriously, I—”

“ENH,” Monet interrupted a fourth time. “You really aren’t getting this are you?” 

Nina sighed and Monet took pity on her. She pulled Nina into a standing position and walked her over to the big glass windows that overlooked the city. She wrapped her arms around Nina’s waist and rested her head lightly on the older woman’s shoulder. Monet noted again how Nina tensed up at the contact. She could sense something was up with the older woman. After their numerous years of friendship it was like a sixth sense at this point.

“Look out there.” Monet motioned to the glimmering city below.

“What am I looking at?” Nina asked.

Monet pointed to something far off in the black distance that Nina couldn’t make out. “You see that.”

“No, what?”

“It’s dark outside.”

“Yeah?” Nina said confusedly.

“So that means it’s sleep time,” Monet said deadpan.

Nina rolled her eyes and turned around in Monet’s arms. Now Monet knew there was definitely something more going on because Nina was as stiff as a wood plank in her grasp.

“Okay, what’s really wrong?”

“Nothing!” Nina tried and failed to say believably. 

Monet sighed. “What happened to talkin’ to each other about things?”

Nina averted her eyes and let out a breath. “I just... It’s weird isn’t it? Do you find it weird?”

“Do I find what weird?” Monet spoke slowly and clearly; she didn’t want another misunderstanding.

“This,” Nina motioned to their intertwined bodies. “Touching like this, kissing, being… together, like, _for real_ together.”

Monet must have looked confused and a little hurt because Nina launched into one of her rambly explanations.

“Not bad weird! Just strange.” Nina shook her head at herself. “Not strange, just different. Like not bad different or weird, just unusual.”

Monet tried to wrap her brain around what Nina was saying, “How is it strange?”

“It’s just…” Nina took a breath in. “I imagined getting together, being with you so many times. And I had pictured all the grand romantic gestures… but I just… I just never thought about the little things. Like the cuddling or the hand holding or-or any of it really.”

Monet smiled in spite of herself. She knew it, objectively she knew Nina had, but it was still nice to hear that Nina had imagined them together so many times. Lord knows Monet had done the same.

Nina noticed her expression and relaxed a bit in Monet’s arms. “Before, I had to stop myself eleven times a day from leaning over and kissing you or doing something else embarrassing and so I think my brain just hardwired itself to stop those actions. So I think I’m still just getting used to the fact that I can.”

“That’s…” Monet searched for the right words for a moment, “really sweet.” 

Nina chuckled. “Really? Because it sounds crazy to me.”

Monet just smiled wider. “I think I imagined us so much that this,” Monet motioned to where her hands perfectly fit to Nina’s hips, like they were always meant to, “just feels like a really good dream. Like the kinda of dream I never wanna wake up from.”

“See, that was sweet!”

Monet threw her head back in a laugh and Nina followed right along with her. 

When their laughter died down, Monet raised a hand to cup Nina’s cheek. The smile on the older woman’s face lit up Monet’s insides. 

“So do you not want me to do this?” She asked Nina seriously. “Because we can take it slower if you want.”

Nina grabbed Monet’s hand and placed it firmly on her hips. “We’ve been taking it slow for nearly four years. If we take it any slower I think I will actually combust.”

Monet chuckled.

“Just-just don’t get upset if it takes me a second to warm up, okay?” Nina spoke softly.

Monet shook her head. “You won’t upset me, baby.”

* * *

Yvie had been pacing around the backstage of whatever theatre they were in this week when she heard it. Hushed whispers being passed back and forth as two figures made their way to the main stage. Yvie, ever the nosy one, strained her ear to pick up on the conversation. 

“--why you’re worrying so much.”

“She’s getting suspicious. I can tell.” 

Yvie immediately recognized the second voice as Scarlet’s. Her stomach turned unpleasantly at her girlfriend’s worried tone.

“She’s been asking me so many questions recently,” Scarlet sighed. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

Yvie noticed the voices getting closer and closer to where she was standing. She ducked behind a speaker and slunk down low in the shadows, ignoring the ache in her joints at the sudden movement.

“Scarlet, you’ve been wanting to do this for a while now. She’s gonna understand. It’s what’s best for both of you. For your relationship,” the other voice reassured calmly.

Scarlet sighed again. “I’m just scared.”

“Whatever her reaction is, you’ll be okay. I’ll be here for you whatever happens.” 

Yvie could hear Scarlet’s slight smile in her words. “Thanks, Dela.”

Yvie was so preoccupied with her own racing thoughts that she hardly heard the footsteps receding. 

Yvie had known something was off. Had known it for months now and still she had been foolish enough to think they could get through it. They had weathered so many storms by now. 

Getting together in the first place had been a challenge. 

Scarlet was slow to warm up. Even slower to commit. And even when she had, Scarlet hadn’t been happy. She liked freedom. Yvie did too. The only difference was that Yvie knew that two arms wrapping securely around you at night weren’t a cage. That caring and being cared for didn’t strip you of your independence. 

That love, in all its painful glory, really wasn’t all that difficult.

It had taken a lot of time. Had Yvie not believed with every ounce of her being that Scarlet was the one, she would have given up. 

But she did, so she hadn’t.

Yvie stayed and braved each storm as it came, ducking for shelter when she needed to, and coming up for air. Eventually, Scarlet did the same. 

Scarlet opened up one night. There was no outward prompt, no push, nothing made her take the leap, she just did. She opened up about her past. She still glossed over the grimy bits, the not-so-shiny moments that Yvie could see reflected in her eyes. But she opened up about how she felt, how she was feeling at the time. 

But ever since she had been open, she was still hard to read at times. She still needed space a lot of the time, but she was happy. She was happy being someone’s someone. It wasn’t nearly as suffocating anymore.

Yvie felt the opposite now. She felt like there wasn’t enough air in the world that could fill her lungs.

She felt like the whole world was crumbling in her hands and she didn’t have the ability to stop it. To pause. 

To figure out what the hell had gone so wrong that Scarlet needed out.

* * *

Ever since their last encounter, Trixie had held onto Katya’s weird autobiography manuscript thing like a precious heirloom. 

She hadn’t read it yet. She told herself she was waiting for the right time. The only reason she knew it was an autobiography was because Katya kept texting to ask if she’d read it yet.

Trixie just couldn’t.

In truth, she had tried to read it the first night she got it. She had readied herself on the hotel couch, pried apart the wilting pages, and promptly shut the book again. 

Something about it felt wrong. She felt out of place mining through Katya’s memories.

So it had been about a week and she still hadn’t read it. They were back on tour in some random city, and Violet was on her case about it one night, and they maybe had gone through the hotel’s mini bar and raided it for the best stuff, and they maybe were laying on the hotel floor when Trixie had accidentally kicked the book across the room to her horror.

She scrambled up on unstable legs to retrieve the manuscript in the far corner while Violet just cackled loudly. 

Trixie picked it up. It felt somehow heavier than last time. She looked down at the worn and wilting pages and something in her, maybe the whiskey, told her that now was the right time.

“Will you read it to me?” she said before she could think too much about what she was asking. 

Violet belched and thought for a moment. “But I don’t like her,” she said simply. 

Trixie sighed. She knew. “I know, Vi, but I can’t read it.”

Violet gave her a hard look; well, as hard a look she could in her state of drunkenness, before nodding jerkily and making grabby hands at the book. Trixie handed it over and the two scooted up the bed so they were both leaning against the headboard. 

Violet had less care for the book than Trixie and flipped the pages harshly, nearly tearing the dedication page. Trixie winced despite herself. 

“‘Dedicated to the best damn tap dancer I ever met,’” Violet read out. 

Trixie rolled her eyes and tried not to find it sweet. She failed.

Violet inhaled and then exhaled before turning to the first page, “Okay, ‘once upon a time—’”

“Vi,” Trixie said unamused.

“It really says that!” Violet insisted.

Trixie shook her head and rolled her eyes. “No, the fuck it doesn’t, give it here.” Trixie yanked the book over to her lap and sure enough. 

_Of course she fucking started it with that._ Trixie thought. _Like how all stories about princesses start._

Violet gave a self-satisfied smirk and curled herself into Trixie’s side. “Read to me.”

Trixie chuckled. “I thought you were supposed to read to me?”

“Can’t see. Too drunk.” Violet murmured, melding her body to Trixie’s side and resting her head on Trixie’s shoulder.

Trixie huffed indignantly, but bit back a smile.

She sighed at the page in front of her and tried to mentally ready herself. “‘Once upon a time, in a little-known town called Moscow—’”

“How the hell can I hear her sarcasm through a book?” Violet interjected. 

Trixie ignored Violet and went back to reading. “A little girl was born to two loving parents. She grew up in a castle and had servants waiting on her hand and tiny, baby foot. Life was easy.”

“I thought she gave this to you to make you feel bad for her,” Violet murmured. 

“She gave it to me because she’s an idiot, now shut up and let me read.”

Violet huffed against Trixie’s side, but mimed locking her mouth shut.

Trixie sighed. “‘Then, one dark and stormy night, like for real there was a storm and shit. Really scary. Don’t recommend. The news came that her older brother died.’”

“Oh fuck,” Violet whispered.

Trixie looked down at Violet, the younger girl’s eyes imploring for her reaction. “I didn’t know she had an older brother.”

It was clear she didn’t know a lot about Katya.

Trixie looked back down at the page, still stunned. 

Trixie didn’t have siblings. Didn’t have much family left. The dance company had become like family in a way. 

Violet. 

Violet had become the closest thing she had to a sister. The thought of her dying made Trixie’s chest constrict and tears pricked at the edges of her eyes. 

Violet must have sensed this, because her hand came to wrap around Trixie’s middle. Trixie’s hand rested lightly on Violet’s head, fingers tracing through her hair slowly as she continued to read.

“‘Things changed around the palace. The little princess had to start learning diplomacy and German rather than how far you could launch a rock into a stream (the answer was pretty fucking far). She had to grow up too fast. Seven tutors and ballet practice and music lessons and not a lot of childhood was left. But such was the way of the world. She was the future of her family. The future of a nation she had barely gotten to see.’” 

Trixie could hear Katya’s voice so clearly in the words. She could hear her trying to joke through the pain, trying to brush aside the hurt that she still felt. Because that’s what it was. Hurt. It read so clean and clear on the page. 

“Well that... kinda sucks,” Violet said quietly. “But I mean… that’s her job.”

Trixie shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Trixie read on. “‘It was too much of them to ask from such a young kid. She started acting out, skipping practices, coming to fancy dinners late, shirking her responsibilities.’”

“So being a kid?’

Trixie hummed. “‘And one day her family said enough was enough and they introduced her to a prince. A lovely fellow. Really he was. Kind and handsome, if you were into facial hair. Which she wasn’t really, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t marry a man she didn’t love just because he knew how to lead. So one night, she stole away into the nearest town and bought a ride out of her home city. She disappeared under the cover of darkness never to be seen again.’”

Violet was quiet for a moment, mulling over the sentences.

“So, basically, she ran away from her responsibilities because she didn’t feel like it? Cute. Really attractive quality to have in a partner, nice goin’, T.”

Violet was being harsh, defensive. 

She was also right. 

Trixie closed the book, her mind spinning out in her head, trying to keep up with all the new information. 

Katya was a princess. She had done all the princess things you read about in fairytales. But she had also had a weird and rough childhood. She wasn’t free to make her own choices for most of her life. 

Trixie knew the feeling.

But Katya also cared for her country. She never said it outright, but Trixie knew. In all the little details she gave to her stories, in all the secret smiles she hid poorly, in all the ways that she didn’t let show. 

And Trixie cared for Katya greatly. Probably too much, all things considered. 

Still. 

Trixie wasn’t sure it would be enough to keep her.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts! You can find me on tumblr as usual @imalwaysaslutfordrag


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